


White-Collar Contract

by CBFirestarter, TrenchcoatBaby



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Age Difference, Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Businessperson Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel/Dean Winchester Mutual Pining, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Heavy Angst, High School Student Sam Winchester, M/M, Mpreg, Non-Consensual Touching, Omega Dean Winchester, Omega Discrimination and Sexual Harassment, Omega Rights Issues, Rich Castiel (Supernatural), Sassy Dean Winchester, Sexual Tension, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:15:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 165,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CBFirestarter/pseuds/CBFirestarter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrenchcoatBaby/pseuds/TrenchcoatBaby
Summary: Caught between the lesser of two evils, omega Dean Winchester is thrown into the orbit of Castiel Novak—a gorgeous, older, and incredibly wealthy businessman…and perhaps the only alpha who wants him for his brains, not his body. Castiel has no interest in bending Dean over the nearest surface and fucking his brains out, which is a first. Not that Dean cares about the alpha’s lack of interest. Nope. Uh-uh. He couldn’t care less.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2298
Kudos: 2279
Collections: Mixtape Book Club Podcast - Discussed Fics, SomethingBlue42's Favorites, The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> CBFirestarter: Should we put them out of their misery? Can we please please please please post? (Insert best pouting Dean face)
> 
> TrenchcoatBaby: Haha, yes, it's time. They say what you do on New Year's Day is what you'll do all year long, and if that means I'll spend the year writing fic with my bestie, then what else could I ask for?
> 
> CB: Sounds like an awesome start for 2020 to me! And obviously since we are entering the roaring twenties, this fic is based on a '20s gangster AU…
> 
> CB: HA! Just kidding. TCB and I decided we wanted to tackle a genre we both love and have experience writing. Say it with me people: A! B! O! Woot woot! So excited.
> 
> TCB: Yes! We've both written a good amount of A/B/O on our own, and we always daydreamed about what our next coauthored fic would look like. So we had a little mini writer's retreat together (dude, can we pleaseeee go back) and plotted out all the details for our next project. Which turns out, is gonna include lots of alpha!Cas and omega!Dean. And as usual, tons of sexual tension and pining and hot hot smut to come. (Can't say I'm surprised—after [Waiting on a Signal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18517174/chapters/43885633), those things are basically our bread and butter, wouldn't you say?)
> 
> CB: We hope you all enjoy this wet and wild ride! (Wet, get it? See what I did there? Cause it’s A/B/O? You get it). The plan is to post weekly on Wednesdays but as always bear with us, since life can get in the way of writing. Hit the post button bestie!
> 
> TCB: Oh wait, we can't post without sharing all our appreciation and gratitude to our betas! [EllenOfOz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllenOfOz/pseuds/EllenOfOz) and [WaywardJenn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardjenn/pseuds/waywardjenn). These girls have been our friends and readers and cheerleaders and we love you so.

He can’t believe he’s resorting to this.

Dean sits in the dark Impala, staring across the street at the looming office building. Looking at his phone, he checks the GPS signal to be sure it’s right. He’s parked in downtown Lawrence and his dad is somewhere in that building. He rubs at his stomach, trying to ease the dull ache still lingering there. His heat ended a few days ago, but it’d been intense and wore him out. Having presented omega at sixteen, he’s had four years to learn to deal with his heats…and yet they’re just as difficult now as they were back then.

He checks his phone again to read the message. It’s just coordinates and a 9-1-1 message. He had tracked his dad’s phone—not trusting the coordinates—and he still can’t understand why he’s parked outside an office building and not some shady bar or alley.

Dabbing on an extra dose of blocker spray to cover his scent, he takes a final deep breath before tucking a knife in his boot and heading in. It’s a cool spring night, the warm air of the day long gone. He hurries in the front revolving door, feeling his nerves tingle as he tries to assess his surroundings. The lobby seems relatively empty except for a brunette sitting behind the reception desk. He slowly approaches her as dark, round eyes lift to meet his.

“Hello there, how can I help you?” she asks in an unnervingly innocent voice. His hackles rise though as the scent of alpha hits his nose.

He fights the internal scowl and puts on his brightest, megawatt smile. “Well hello yourself, beautiful.” He grins at her, hoping his height and blockers work to conceal his orientation. He finds enough bravado can convince most people he’s a beta, or even an alpha on a good day. She raises a skeptical manicured brow at him and he leans on the counter, tipping his head toward her. “I’m actually here to meet someone. He gave me the address, but you know, he forgot to tell me what floor.” He gives her his best embarrassed smile, and for a second he thinks she’s eating it up.

“Hmmm, likely story, handsome,” she cooes before her sweet smile suddenly drops to a frown. Her voice has gone cold. “Your dad’s upstairs on the eleventh.” She nods toward the elevator before she returns to her computer screen, ignoring him now. He stands a moment, mouth hanging open before he shakes himself and pulls away from the counter.

What kind of shit did his dad get into now? Dean’s used to pulling his dad out of the fire, but something feels incredibly wrong here. They’re expecting him? His dad would never text him if he was walking into some kind of trap, right? He can’t back down now, not till he lays eyes on his dad.

“Eve, this him?” a stiff male voice breaks his racing train of thought. He turns to see dark hair and assessing, sharp eyes. The alpha scent rolling off of this guy is at nauseating levels. His heart gives a little twist—being caught between two powerful alpha scents is messing with his mind, still addled from his recent heat. 

“Edgar,” the woman greets, and then nods. “This is the one and only. Now be a good little pet and show our friend here to his father?” She bats her lashes at the man in a snide, mocking way before going back to her computer. The man scowls at her before stalking closer to Dean.

Dean’s heart hammers in his chest, but he stands his ground. He’s never been so happy for his height as he is now. “Where’s my dad?” he growls out with all the authority he can muster.

The man smirks at him. “He’s in a bit of trouble, son, but maybe his prayers have been answered.” The man’s eyes rake over him and it makes his stomach drop. He’s looking at him like a piece of meat, but he shouldn’t be able to tell what he is. Not unless someone told him...not unless his dad told him. A cold chill runs down his spine, and everything in him is itching to break this guy’s nose and run.

“Where is he?” He steps a bit closer, showing this asshole he doesn’t back down. His father may have let him down a time or two, but he didn’t raise a coward.

“Waiting for you, of course. Follow me.” The man turns, heading for the elevator. The idea of sharing a tight space with this man makes his skin crawl, but he can’t exactly climb eleven flights of stairs. The asshole leans against the door, holding it open for him. This is it—his chance to leave, to let his dad deal with his own fucking problems for once. He can almost imagine it: walking away, getting in his car and going home to Sam, grabbing some ice-cream and relaxing on the couch while watching reruns. Spending his night safe in his bed.

The thought is a fleeting one. A fantasy, because Dean would never leave his family, even if John is a useless drunk. Even if he’s been in this situation before and knows he will be here again, he still walks into the elevator with his head held high. He never really had a choice.

Edgar presses the number eleven and Dean feels his stomach drop as they begin racing upward. He feels off-balance and wishes he had thought to put a knife in his coat, not just one in his boot, when he came here. He’s glad the elevator isn’t glass, at least. With how scared he is of heights, he’d rather stay oblivious to how high up they are. He feels the guys eyes on him, and it sets off all kinds of alarm bells. There’s a quiet kind of contained violence about the man, and Dean seriously hopes he doesn’t have to try and take the guy on to get out of here.

Finally the elevator dings and Dean rushes out into a long corridor of opaque glass walls. Edgar chuckles before moving past Dean and heading down the long hallway, toward voices. Dean scowls—he can’t let this fucker get under his skin—but the alpha scent is making his stomach turn. His instincts are telling him to run or submit. Luckily Dean is a pro at suppressing his instincts, or he wouldn’t have made it as a free man as long as he has.

Edgar swings open a heavy glass door and waves Dean inside. Dean’s hit with a nearly nauseating level of alpha pheromones before he even makes it over the threshold, and he focuses all his energy on standing tall and assessing the room best he can. He counts six people in the room and he’s fairly certain most of them are alphas. There’s a large conference table, and at the far end sit two men across from each other. Both are flanked by people standing behind them.

“Dean.” 

He whips his head around to find his dad standing across the room from him. He moves quickly to his dad’s side as Edgar shuts the door, blocking the exit.

“What the hell is going on?” Dean hisses out to his father. He can smell the stale alcohol on him, although his eyes look fairly clear.

“Ah, is this him?” One of the men at the table swivels in his chair, with slick hair and a white-toothed, feral grin on his face.

Dean opens his mouth to reply, when he feels his father’s heavy hand fall on his shoulder, giving a slightly painful squeeze. “This is my boy, Dean. Dean, this is Mister Roman.” Dean grits his teeth at the word “boy” seeing as he’s twenty freaking years old.

“Well, come on now. Let me get a look at you.” Roman stands, waving for Dean to come closer.

“What the hell is this?” Dean scowls at his father, ignoring the Armani-suit-wearing douchebag.

“Play nice and behave yourself,” John all but growls at him. Dean knows his father though, and he can hear the twinge of fear in his voice. Something is seriously not right with this picture.

“Listen to your father, son.” The man flashes him another sharp white smile and his dad pushes him slightly toward the man. He grudgingly goes, but stops a few feet away. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Roman says in a patronizing tone. “Omegas are naturally obedient when you use a firm hand with them.”

“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing here, but I want nothing to do with it. I’m taking my dad and we’re leaving.” He stares the man square in the eye. Something dark and dangerous passes over Roman’s calm, cool exterior before his smile snaps back into place. Dean hears a small snort and glances over at the other man, still seated at the table. Blue eyes watch him, obviously amused by something.

“Roman, I don’t have all day.” The man with the dark hair and surprising blue eyes sighs in a deep, rough voice.

“This won’t take long, Novak. I know you want to read over that contract with a fine-tooth comb,” Roman retorts. The other man glares at him before returning to the pile of papers in front of him. “Now Dean, as you can see, I am in the middle of some very important negotiations tonight, so I’m hoping we can make this brief.”

He nods, glancing back at his dad who’s just standing still as stone with his arms crossed. Roman clears his throat and Dean’s snaps his eyes back to the man. “Good boy. So, I’ll be frank with you Dean, your father here has gotten himself into quite a lot of debt with me. I’m afraid he’s going to have to forfeit over his house and auto shop to me by the end of the week.”

“You can’t take our house!” Dean’s eyes go wide in shock, and he looks at his dad, praying he’ll see denial there. Instead, his dad just stares at his shoes.

“I assure you, Dean, I can and will take what’s owed to me.” Roman sighs with a mock look of pity on his face. “There is, however, another option.” 

Dean swallows hard and tries to calm his racing heart. He knows what comes next here—his worst freaking nightmare since the day he presented with the wrong goddamn gender. “Your father tells me you have yet to sign a contract with an alpha? Fairly uncommon for a young, healthy omega like yourself. Now you’re of age, so your father cannot sign a contract for you…so this needs to be just between us.”

“You want my contract.” Dean wishes it was a question, but deep down he can’t fool himself. “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve, you know that?” Dean laughs at the sheer ridiculousness of the prospect.

Roman is on him in two quick strides, hand clenched around Dean’s neck. Dean gasps for breath, hands clutching at the man’s arm. “You, little omega, will need to learn some manners. I am making you a very fair offer—two years of service to me, and in return I clear your family's substantial debt.”

“Dick!” a sharp voice rings out in the room. Dean feels the grip lighten on his throat and he pulls in a deep breath. “Let the boy go. If this is how you do business, I’ll take mine elsewhere.” There’s a cold steel in the voice from the man sitting at the far end of the table. Dean’s too distracted by the shark in front of him to look away.

Roman’s hand loosens and shifts to Dean’s shoulder, soft but no less threatening. “Never knew you for a softie, Castiel.” Roman winks at Dean, and he refrains from spitting in the guy’s face. “I have all the papers right here. The terms are non-negotiable, but you’ll find it’s a fairly standard omega contract.”

He hands Dean a small stack of papers and he pulls away, out of Roman’s grasp, eyes scanning down the pages. So far, he’d managed not to have to do this. Few family alphas turned the papers over to the omega when they came of age. Most just sold their contract to the highest bidding alpha. There were some more progressive families who signed contracts over to the omega themselves, just like his dad had done on his eighteenth birthday. How was that the same man standing behind him now?

Dean reads the contract quickly, stomach dropping at words like _leash_ and _collar_ , _sexual service_ , _manual labor_ , _corporal punishment_. If he signs this he’s basically signing up to be this guy’s bitch for two whole years. “There’s no way, I am not gonna be your omega whore,” Dean growls, slamming the papers onto the table.

“No one is forcing your hand, Dean. If you don’t want to sign, then I will proceed with repossessing the house and business first thing in the morning,” Roman replies, almost cheerily.

“Dean,” John hisses at him, and pulls on his arm. Dean can barely bring himself to even look at his father right now, much less talk to him. “We can’t afford to lose the house or the shop. How am I gonna take care of Sam without a job to put food on the table, or a roof over our heads? They’ll take Sam away, Dean, you know they will. And those group homes are no picnic. He hasn’t even presented yet. It’s only two years…and I promise I will find a way to buy back the contract sooner than that.”

“Did you even read this?” Dean grabs the papers, shaking them in his dad’s face.

John doesn’t even wince, face set now, and Dean knows that look. He’s made up his mind that _this_ is what they should do, and he couldn’t give two shits about what that means for Dean. He drops his voice to low hiss and adds, “And how am I supposed to trust you with Sam, huh? Who do think watches out for that kid, keeps groceries in the kitchen, checks his homework, pays the bills?” Dean runs a hand over his face, the exhaustion from this whole thing starting to set in. “I can’t leave him.” His voice comes out smaller than he intended, and it’s taking all his strength to stay standing tall when all he wants to do is curl up and hide till this all goes away.

“I can take care of my own son,” John grunts in reply.

“Yeah, you’re doing a bang-up job,” Dean responds in a low rumble as he stares down at the papers. He never should have come here. His dad is right, he knows he is. He can’t let them end up on the street, not if there’s a way for him to stop it. 

“What’s it gonna be, Winchester? I have business to conclude here.” Roman’s voice is completely devoid of any emotion or interest. Like this is just normal business and not Dean signing his goddamn life away.

“Fine,” he snaps, flipping to the last page of the contract and snatching up a pen. His hand hovers over the paper, breathing in his last few seconds of freedom—praying for something to stop this, anything.

A cool, gravely voice breaks the silence in the room, and the buzzing in his head. “Just a moment, omega. I may have another option.”

***

Castiel leans into the padded office chair, watching the omega’s eyes widen with hope. They stare at each other for a moment, the young man evidently trying to size him up, before he huffs out, “Well? The other option—what is it?”

Castiel conceals an amused smile. It’s been a while since someone has had the power to surprise him, to pull anything out of him beyond a blank stare and nod in a business meeting. He’s been working far too hard, he realizes with unsettling clarity. It’s been too long since he’s even wanted to smile, much less had to suppress the urge. 

“Come work for me instead,” Castiel says airily, hands rubbing absently on his suit trousers. “I have a large estate in Kansas City. I require an assistant to help me with my affairs, both in business and day-to-day life. Like Mr. Roman suggested, I believe a two-year commitment is fair. You’ll be compensated for the work you do, of course.” Castiel wants to add _because I advocate against omega slave labor,_ but thinks that might be a bit too overt a criticism of Roman. Not that he cares what Dick thinks of him—he’s perhaps the least trustworthy man Castiel does business with, and that’s saying a lot. 

“What’s the catch?” the omega says dubiously, shoulders tense and thrown back.

“Dean,” the omega’s father hisses, squeezing his shoulder tight. Oh, yes, that was the young man’s name. _Dean._ “There’s no need to be rude. Mr. Novak is offering us a good deal.”

“Not you, Dad, _me_ ,” Dean points out, crossing his arms over his chest, tight lipped. Behind him, his father’s face is flushed red. The fact that he’d been willing to sell his son to the highest bidder to settle up on his own debts reminds Castiel of the disdain he has for his own parents. He’s thirty-two years old, so those wounds are a decade old by now, but he’s never quite gotten over the things Chuck and Naomi had allowed to happen to…

He clears his throat, trying to regain focus on the task at hand. “Call me Castiel,” he corrects, with a nonchalant wave of his hand. 

“That _is_ a good deal,” Dick says, voice wavering even as he flashes his signature toothy smile, “but one you can’t make. You can’t settle my debts for me, Castiel. This situation is a separate transaction from the one we’re negotiating.”

“It was, but I’ve changed my mind. Now ‘this situation’ is an element of my counter offer,” Castiel says smoothly. “Try and keep up, Dick. Or shall I call in your receptionist to take minutes for you?”

Dick chuckles darkly. “Eve has better things to do, I can assure you.”

“Do you have ‘better things to do’ as well? Or is there a reason you don’t want to close this deal?” Castiel makes a show of unbuttoning his suit jacket buttons and playing with his tie, looking every bit the indifferent businessman he is.

A moment of tension passes around the room. For all intents and purposes, this is a good deal for Castiel. SucroCorp is offering him a generous portion of equity if he invests in their food corporation. It’s a large amount of cash that he’ll earn back tenfold within a few months, and afterwards, he’ll be an investor in the most popular high fructose corn syrup corporation in the midwest. Still, now he wants more than the profits. He wants to help this self-righteous omega with a chip on his shoulder, to protect him from an alpha like Dick Roman.

“I’m waiting patiently for your counter offer,” Dick says curtly.

Castiel inhales a large breath. “Five hundred thousand dollars, five percent equity, and you consider the omega’s employment with me an absolution of his father’s debt.”

“The original offer was only three percent equity,” Dick points out. “And I’m losing out on a two-year omega contract. Just look at the boy—those lips… He’s worth even more if he’s a virgin.” The sudden scent of alpha arousal seeps into the room, and Dean shifts around uncomfortably from foot to foot, looking fidgety. Dick’s eyes settle on the omega, searching his face hungrily. “Are you a virgin, beautiful? Ever been knotted before?”

“None of your fucking business,” Dean snaps, though even with the blocker’s Castiel can smell the waves of omega panic in the air. 

Dick smirks at him, his gaze practically feral. “That means you are a virgin. Imagine, Castiel, the feeling of a tight virgin hole catching on your knot…”

“I have no interest in that,” Castiel says evenly, trying to look bored by Dick’s obvious and explicit attempts to rile up both him and Dean.

“What, uh…” Dean is looking at Castiel again, that same careful expression masked beneath layers of skepticism. “You saying, your job offer wouldn’t include me ass up on your bed every night?”

Castiel chokes out a laugh. If he hasn’t smiled much lately, he certainly hasn’t laughed. There’s something about Dean that’s fascinating to him—he’s an enigma, a puzzle in a world where most people are incredibly easy for Castiel to figure out. 

“No, it would not,” Castiel tells him, though internally, the image of Dean naked and waiting on his bed is much more enticing than it should be. Perhaps he’s going into a rut soon… He should check his calendar. That would be the only reason this omega is affecting him. “I can assure you of that. This would strictly be a white-collar contract."

In fact, Castiel would never consider anything other than a white-collar contract—a business-only agreement. Men like Roman favored the other end of the spectrum, red-collar contracts with omegas that centered around sexual servitude. 

"White-collar?" Dick casts him a knowing look and scoffs. "Just look at _him_ , Castiel. What a waste."

There's a beat of silence before Dean looks at Castiel and mutters, “You mated?”

Before Castiel can answer, Dick snorts loudly. “Novak? God no. He’s a perpetual bachelor.” He drops his voice down low, as if he’s releasing a scandalous bit of gossip even though Castiel is sitting right next to him. “Don’t you read _The Daily Kansasan?_ He famously refuses to fuck omegas. Doubt he’s ever had the pleasure.”

Castiel feels his shoulders tighten, his heart rate speeding up as the embarrassment settles in. “I’m surprised that you believe everything you see printed in tabloids,” he says icily. The fact that all the rumors are true often gets under Castiel’s skin. No, he’s never been with an omega, not even during his ruts. He has his reasons, but they’re personal and no one’s business but his own. “Perhaps I should go into business with someone a bit more discerning and level-headed.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that Castiel. I wasn’t telling the boy anything he couldn’t google himself.” Dick straightens up in his chair, his demeanor changing suddenly, perhaps realizing he’s close to losing the deal Castiel’s offering. “Five hundred thousand dollars and three percent equity.”

“Four,” Castiel says instantly, and Dick narrows his eyes. 

“Three?”

“Four.”

A long pause, and then, “Fine. Four.”

Castiel’s mood raises—there’s nothing as invigorating as a potential deal closed. He looks at Dean with a casual gaze. “And him?”

“Yeah, hey, _Dean_ would like to have a freaking say in the next two years of his life, thanks,” the omega says angrily, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“The omega?” Dick says, ignoring Dean completely and attempting to sound disinterested. “Well, I suppose you can have him, Castiel. There’s plenty of fine omega ass walking around…though I admit, none as tempting as this one.” He sighs, as if he’s clearly suffering. “It’s a shame he’ll be with an alpha who won’t give him the knot he so clearly needs. But I can’t solve all the world’s problems, can I?”

“Apologies, Dick. I’m afraid your philanthropic efforts have be thwarted today,” Castiel says dryly, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Then he turns back to the omega, spreads his hands out wide, and says, “The floor is yours, Dean.”

“Well, uh, first of all…what do you even do?” the omega spits out, tone still full of suspicion. Castiel’s inner alpha stirs in his chest, feeling slightly aggravated at the insolent tone, while also wanting to shelter this omega, to lead him to a safer place. It’s a bizarre feeling—Castiel doesn’t allow himself to work with omegas for this very reason. If Dean agrees to this arrangement, he would be the only omega he’s ever employed. Having to explain to Missouri, his head of staff, why he made an exception with this man will be difficult to explain.

“I own a business conglomerate called Novak Industries, with branches in Kansas, Michigan, and Illinois. I don’t spend much time on the ground with them anymore—each company is well-staffed and self-sufficient,” Castiel explains, unable to keep the pride out of his voice. He’s a successful man who’s given up any form of a social life in order to rise above the rest. “Now what I do is mostly what you see here—investing, consulting. Offering my time, money, and expertise to other businesses.”

The omega is impressed, Castiel can tell by the slight raise in his eyebrows. But as quickly as it comes, the look passes, replaced by something cagey and apprehensive. “If you’re so rich, then why don’t you wanna hire somebody more qualified?”

“Dean,” his father grunts with disapproval, but Castiel ignores him. He’s too busy staring at Dean, transfixed by something he sees there. Castiel isn’t one to appreciate or even notice someone’s outward appearance—he gave up on pursuing romantic relationships ten years ago—but even he can’t deny that the omega’s appearance is quite pleasing. He’s tall, taller than an omega should be, and certainly sturdier with wider shoulders. He looks strong and durable, an outward aspect that evidently matches the man’s rough interior. But the rest of his features are delicate, beautiful even—the vibrant green eyes, the long and fluttering eyelashes, the trail of freckles dusting his cheekbones. It’s no wonder, really, that Dick attempted to coerce the omega into an outrageously antiquated sex contract. And just with that thought, there’s Castiel’s inner alpha again, provoked for some unknown reason.

“I would require your resume, of course, and any academic transcripts,” Castiel says matter-of-factly. “This is a job offer, Dean. Everything will be done above board. Are you in college now?” 

“Not in college,” Dean says gruffly, “and don’t have a resume, really. Got my GED and I’ve been workin’ at the family business since I could hold a wrench.”

“An uneducated grease monkey? Huh, sounds like you picked a real winner,” Dick mumbles out haughtily. 

Castiel’s patience for alphas like Dick is seriously wearing thin today. It’s a necessary evil, doing business with men like him, but never an aspect of his career that Castiel’s enjoyed. “My brother, Gabriel, never finished high school and he owns the most successful casino in Nevada,” he points out, while Dick just looks blankly back at him. 

Castiel’s eyes find Dean’s again, trying again to ignore how distracting his beauty is. “Though I have no doubt you can rise to the challenge, this arrangement will include a ninety-day trial. I want to be sure you’re trainable and equipped to handle all aspects that my assistant is required to manage.”

“And after ninety days?” Dean asks, his voice sounding unusually small. His gaze travels over to Dick, cheeks losing their color. “You’ll just hand me over to him if, what? I don’t fold your laundry the way you like it?”

“No, we’ll just find a better position for you, that’s all,” Castiel answers, wanting to ease Dean’s fears with a surprising amount of urgency. _I’ll never let him hurt you,_ Castiel thinks with a burst of conviction, and it’s so strong that it takes his breath away. Castiel is a cutthroat businessman, an intentional loner, a closed book. Why should he care so much about protecting one omega?

“Okay,” Dean says finally, hands sliding into his back pockets. “Anything else?”

“You’ll have to move to my estate, obviously. All my staff lives on the property,” Castiel says, thinking this is a small detail as Dean’s face breaks into horrified shock.

“Leave Lawrence? Live with you?” He turns to his dad, his frown set deep. “Sammy’s, he’s not even sixteen yet… He depends on me. He _needs_ me.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Dean. I’ve already told you—I’m more than capable of raising my own son without you,” his dad says with a mixture of annoyance and false bravado. Dean snorts, shaking his head, clearly choosing not to argue.

“I dunno if this’ll work,” he mutters, looking at Castiel again. “Do I get any nights off? Is this like a twenty-four hour gig?”

“It is a hefty time commitment,” Castiel admits, figuring it’ll do neither of them good to beat around the bush. “But everyone requests certain days or evenings off, particularly on the weekends. Lawrence is only forty miles away, so I imagine you could still see your brother often, if you wish.”

Dean bites his lip, staring down at the carpet as he thinks. “Could he come and visit me sometimes?”

“If he doesn’t distract you from your work, I see no issue with it,” Castiel says tactfully.

The omega pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling a nervous huff before his eyes search again for Castiel. “Okay. Okay, I guess I’ll do it.”

Castiel feels pleased with this arrangement, and nods while he offers a small smile. The next half-hour passes quickly, with a new contract written up and signed by all parties involved. Dean’s father is looking nervously at Dick’s employee, Edgar, as if the man might pull a knife on him at any moment. Knowing the alpha, that’s not a totally illogical fear to have. 

Castiel pulls Dean aside to discuss the more minute details of his employment. Casual dress is fine on most days, but he’ll be required to wear business attire if he accompanies Castiel to a business meeting. He’ll be given prescription strength scent blockers to wear daily, since the brand he’s wearing doesn’t seem to be strong enough. Castiel writes down his address and tells Dean he has the weekend to pack up his belongings and settle in, and then his first day of work will be on Monday.

“You’ll report primarily to Missouri, my head of staff,” Castiel explains to Dean, as he packs up his briefcase. Dean is beginning immediately, and will meet a lot of people in the coming days—Charlie, Kevin, Uriel, Joshua, Ellen, Jo… He has a solid staff working at Novak Estates, and a peculiar faith that they’ll all enjoy Dean’s personality as much as he does.

“Aren’t you there?” Dean asks quietly. Now that they have some semblance of privacy, Castiel can see the omega’s hard exterior begin to chip away a little. He’s nervous, tired, scared.

“I am, and you’ll be with me sometimes. Other days, you won’t see me at all.” Castiel gives a little shrug. “My schedule varies, as you’ll see.”

Dean nods, looking down at his feet, head hung heavy with the responsibility placed on his shoulders. It’s a heartbreaking sight—at least, it would be for anyone with a shred of empathy. But Castiel locked away his emotions long ago, putting aside those things in order to focus on climbing the corporate ladder. Things like love, true mates, and alpha and omega relationships have only ever brought the Novak family pain. 

Which is why it feels totally out of character when he brings his hand up, touching Dean’s elbow. The omega seems startled for a minute before settling into the touch, eyes wide and trained on Castiel’s face, his eyes, his lips.

“Dean?”

Dean clears his throat, a gorgeous blush falling on his cheeks. “Yeah?”

“I’ll see you Monday.” Castiel forces himself to step backwards, to leave Dean in the conference room with a group of alphas—none of which he trusts. It’s much harder than it should be. “Don’t be late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi in the comments! Don’t forget to hit subscribe ✨


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Fan Family!  
> Gosh we missed you guys, reading all your lovely comments just breathed life into us this week. My lovely co-author and my self have had really rough days today so it was a joint effort getting this posted. Legit we had a flat tire, dead car battery, hundreds of new error lines on a report, and a forgotten winter jacket (which in Massachusetts was an issue). Sharing this is the highlight of our day believe me. We hope you enjoy!  
> Love,  
> CB & TCBaby

“This is horse shit, Dean!”

Sam hovers over him as Dean finishes stuffing the last few items in his duffel bag.

“Sammy, we’ve been through this.” Dean sighs as he looks around for anything else he might need.

“Your contract, Dean…you said you would never sign that away, not ever. How could you do this?” Sam’s voice cracks and Dean feels the itch to tease him for it, but can’t seem to muster the energy. He can’t believe Sam will be turning sixteen in a few more weeks.

“It’s a temporary contract, Sam, it’s not permanent. And it’s a white-collar contract not—not one of those other ones, alright?” Dean feels his throat tighten at the thought. Despite all of the alpha’s reassurances, he still can’t believe the guy doesn’t expect something extra on the side. He’d seemed genuine, at least, and since the choice was between the blue-eyed alpha or that shark Dick Roman, it was an easy decision.

“This isn’t fair. This isn’t your problem to fix, you didn’t get us into debt,” Sam rants for the hundredth time, arms waving in the air. Dean glances at his brother and sees the dark shadows under his eyes and fear written across his face. It breaks his heart to see how upset this is making Sam, weighing down the already heavy guilt in his chest. “What if I got a job? I can take a break from school or do classes online?” Sam offers.

Dean’s hands clench around the cotton straps on his bag. “No. This is a done deal, alright? And you having a meltdown about it isn’t making this any easier.” Dean shuts his eyes, unable to look at him. “It’s all going to be okay, Sam. I’m coming back and I won’t even be that far away.” He wants to believe his own words so badly. 

Sam doesn’t answer right away and a stillness settles over the room...their room. He’s shared this room with his brother since he was in a crib. Always right there where Dean could watch over him, make sure he was safe. He knows in a couple years Sam will be going to college, but he thought he’d have a little more time, and he definitely didn’t think it would be him who was leaving.

“Are you sure about this?” Sam asks, breaking the uncomfortable silence. He turns to look at his brother again, taking in his long, gangly limbs and mop of hair he refuses to cut. He’s as tall as Dean now, and he thinks the kid might still be growing. Dean’s been putting Advil by Sam’s cereal in the morning since his shins hurt from growing pains.

“I’m sure that I have to do this,” Dean answers, swinging the bag up on his shoulder. “You’re going to be okay without me Sam, you got this.” He claps a hand on Sam’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” Sam mutters under his breath.

“Yeah well, as the big brother around here it’s what I’m worried about. So I need you to take care of yourself, okay? Do your homework, pick up after yourself, and make sure you check the locks at night.” Dean tries to think of what else he should worry about, but truth is Sam is the most responsible teenager he’s ever met. “Don’t go fighting with Dad, either. You know it won’t get you anywhere.”

This earns him a full-blown bitch face from Sam, something he’s been perfecting even more the past few years. “I don’t fight with him, he’s just a jackass, Dean. And after this stunt, he’s lucky if I ever talk to his sorry ass again.” Sam huffs, pulling out from Dean’s hand that still lingers on his shoulder.

“Believe me, Sam I get it. I’m not too thrilled with him myself, but for me, would you at least try to be civil?” He can only imagine how bad things could get without Dean around to referee between the two of them. Sam just shrugs, and Dean thinks that’s as much as he’s gonna get. “Okay, you have my cell and you can call me anytime, alright? And if you uh, if you start to feel off at all…if you think you’re presenting, you call me immediately and I’ll come get you, okay?” And there’s his real fear—that his baby brother will present and he won’t be there to help him.

“We don’t even know if I will present. I could be a beta you know.” Sam blushes at that, looking embarrassed at the whole topic, and who the fuck can blame him.

“I know that, but you tested high on the hormone ranges just like me, and that means you’re much more likely to present alpha or omega. I’m just saying to pick up the phone and call me, capiche?”

Sam lets out a theatrical sigh. “Yeah, I capiche.”

“I’ll text you when I get there, okay?”

Sam nods and hesitates a moment, shuffling on his feet before he dives in, wrapping Dean up in a boney hug. A few reassuring pats on the back and Dean ducks out the door before he can change his mind.

He slides in behind the wheel of the Impala and checks the address on his phone. He still can’t believe he’s really doing this. He catches a glimpse of the worn siding on his home in the rearview and tells himself it’s not forever. He hasn’t bothered to dress up for the drive to Novak’s place. He knows he doesn’t really start till Monday and he only has one dress shirt to his name—he isn’t gonna make it dirty now.

He flips on the radio to his favorite classic rock station, letting the music drown out his mind as he drives farther away from home. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about what it’s all gonna be like. Despite the alpha’s word that Dean will be able to work off his debt with him, he has his doubts. What use does a successful businessman like that need with a mindless grunt like Dean? He’s still not completely convinced that Novak didn’t just buy his contract to warm his bed.

He hasn’t really decided what he would do if it came to that, anyway. For all of his bravado, Dean has stayed well clear of alphas ever since he presented. Certainly never slept with any of them, and he’s well-endowed enough for an omega that he has no trouble finding willing omegas or betas to bed. He decided long ago he was never gonna be some lovesick omega worshipping at the altar of his alpha’s cock. He thinks of all those cheesy romance A/O billboards around town, which are just one step away from soft-core porn. It isn’t romantic—it’s fictional, and he wants nothing to do with the whole thing.

Novak would look good up on one of those billboards, though. All stormy ocean-blue eyes and powerful posture. He could almost picture it now—a big title like _Office Affair_ scrawled across the top and Novak leaning on his large oak desk with his sleeves rolled up, his hand sunk into the hair of some simpering omega by his side. Just the thought of being under that stare is enough to make Dean have to adjust his jeans.

He’s never felt so attracted to an alpha before. Normally his gut reaction is disgust around alphas, or indifference at best. But even amidst all the commotion that night he can’t pretend the guy didn’t push all his buttons. A tiny part of him wished that the guy had been a beta, and maybe he could have laid some of the Winchester charm on him. Probably for the best though, since he wants to keep things professional as possible. 

He thinks he should have a game plan, though, if Novak does try and make a move on him. At least a better game plan than breaking the guy’s nose. He doesn’t think he’ll want Dean to just bend over his desk and beg him to fuck his needy hole while he takes down meeting minutes. According to Novak, he doesn’t like omegas anyway, so he wouldn’t be interested in Dean. He’s just gonna have to make sure Novak sticks to his word on that. No way is he going to give it up to some knot head alpha. Even if he is kinda hot, and his voice shakes him to his core. Dean is going to leave this contract the way he went in—with some goddamn self respect. If only his cock would get on board. 

After a quicker-than-expected forty minute drive he pulls up to the large house, saving him from his own thoughts. He turns around the large circular drive and stares up at the expansive estate. Mansion is more like it. He barks a nervous laugh as he looks up the huge white pillars and delicate landscaping all around the front entrance. His eyes catch another small drive off to the side and he figures it’s the service entrance. He pulls around till he reaches a small parking area. 

Standing by the door, he looks up to see a short blonde woman leaning on the door frame, eyeing his car. Who can blame her? He hops out, grabbing his duffle and swinging it over his shoulder, a hand tossed in greeting.

“You Dean Winchester?” she calls, looking him up and down.

“One and only,” he replies with a grin.

“Jo,” she says, sticking out a hand and he takes it giving it a good shake. “Missouri asked me to keep an eye out for you. Come on.” She nods her head, leading back into the house. There seems to be an entry room with small cubbies for shoes and coats, and then they head into an industrial-sized kitchen.

“Mom, new guy is here.” Jo nods at Dean over her shoulder and he’s greeted by a warm, but skeptical, smile.

“Thought we were getting our first omega in the house, not another alpha.” The woman huffs, walking up to him, dish towel in hand. “Name’s Ellen, I’m the chef around here.” She extends a hand and Dean takes it, trying not to flush at the mention of his designation. _First omega?_

“Nice to meet you.” He nods, thinking the chef is someone he definitely wants to be on the good side of.

“I think I saw Missouri just down the hall, talking to Mister Novak. Welcome to the house, Dean.” Ellen heads back over to a large pot of something boiling on the stove. Dean sniffs the air and thinks he smells chilli. Following Jo, they enter a large foyer with more white pillars, glossy hardwood floors, and a spiral staircase. The place feels like something out of a movie set and he wonders how long it takes to clean the whole thing. He spots Castiel standing next to an older woman with a warm smile.

“Heavens be, Castiel, you did not tell me how handsome our latest addition was.” The woman flashes him a brighter smile and sweeps him into a surprising hug. “Look at that face. How will you get any work done?” She chuckles, winking at a very shocked-looking alpha. Dean stands a bit flabbergasted, unsure how he’s supposed to respond to that.

“Leave the poor guy alone, Missouri.” Jo rolls her eyes as she heads back into the house, whispering “good luck” to Dean under her breath. Missouri simply tuts at that and gives him another once over. 

“Dean, it’s good to see you again. I trust your drive went well?” Castiel’s voice holds a stiff formality that makes Dean want to straighten his back.

“Uh, yes sir,” he replies, and almost winces at the honorific.

“Castiel is fine for off hours. Mister Novak if we are in a business meeting,” the alpha clarifies for him.

“Missouri, can you help Dean get settled into his lodgings and familiarize him with the house rules? If you need anything at all, she should be able to assist you,” Castiel adds, and Dean notices him sniff the air and seem to settle a bit. Dean had made sure to pick up the prescription strength blockers Castiel had mandated, and they are much more potent than his over the counter brand that had a metallic after taste to it.

“Thank you. You have, uh, a really nice place.” Dean swallows back the _huge fucking mansion_ comment on the tip of his tongue.

“Yes I know its a bit…large.” Castiel grins a little and it lights up his face. “But it’s a family home, and I just haven’t been able to part with it for anything more practical.”

“Practical is overrated.” Dean shrugs awkwardly and Castiel quirks a brow at him. Fuck if that face isn’t kinda adorable. Dean thinks the alpha’s eyes are an even brighter blue in the light of the foyer.

Missouri clears her throat, nearly making him jump and realize that he was just staring at his boss. Castiel looks a bit flustered as well, taking a step back from Dean.

“I’ll make sure to give him the tour and show him around. You have that call with those Italian manufacturers in fifteen minutes. I sent you the link to the conference call earlier,” she says in a more professional tone, nodding.

“Yes, you’re right, thank you Missouri. Good to see you, Dean.” Castiel does an awkward sort of bow before he strides out of the room and down a different hallway.

“Come with me, sugar. We will get you all settled in and I can take you on a tour.” Missouri pats his arm and heads in the other direction, past the kitchen. Dean spares a small glance after where Castiel has vanished before following after her. There is a long hallway lined with doors and he notices wooden name plates hanging on them. They stop at a door with the “D. Winchester” sign and Missouri opens the door for him.

“This is your suite while you will be staying here. If there is something you need or that can make you more comfortable, just make a list on this note pad.”

Dean peers around the room…it’s like a small apartment. A couch with a TV and bookshelves across from a small kitchenette. He can see three doors along the back, and he peers in to see two bedrooms each furnished with a queen bed and small bathroom in between. It’s honestly almost more space than he has at his own house. “Two bedrooms?”

“Yes, Castiel mentioned a younger brother who may be visiting on occasion, so I made sure to set you up in a larger suite. I know it’s small, but you should have everything you need.” Dean snorts and shakes his head at the idea that anything here is small. Missouri walks him through what to do with his laundry and house rules. No smoking on premises, quiet hours between 11 p.m. and 8 a.m., scent blockers must be worn at all times, and no guests who aren’t pre-approved.

Dean nods, taking it all in and thinking he can manage all of that fairly easily. 

“I am sure Charlie will want to get you set up with your laptop and email herself, nosey thing that she is.” Missouri gives a dramatic roll of the eye. “There are also suits in the closet of the bedroom to the left. If you need anything tailored, just let me know.”

Dean feels the tension in his throat growing—it’s all so much, it’s way too nice a place for him. He swallows hard, placing his bag on the floor and taking a calming breath. “This is all very kind of him,” Dean responds quieter than he means to. Of course Castiel knew he wouldn’t have any nice clothes, lower-middle class mechanics wouldn’t.

“Novak is hard egg to crack. He may seem stiff, but he has a good heart, that one. Now come on, let me show you the rest of the house. Soon it will be time for dinner.”

Dean smiles at her and nods, thinking the sooner he gets his barings the better. Shooting off a quick text to Sam telling him he made it fine, he tucks his phone in his pocket and gestures for her to lead the way.

***

Castiel’s meeting with the Italian manufacturers is as dry as he expected. After just twenty minutes on the conference line, he has a splitting headache. There are too many voices on the call—for some reason, they’ve deemed it necessary to include every manager and production head the company has, which is far too many. When an hour passes by and he’s barely had the opportunity to contribute two words, he fires off an email to his point of contact and excuses himself from the call. He’s paid quite handsomely for his time, upwards of four hundred dollars an hour, so if they want to include him on long conference calls it shouldn’t bother him. But it’s Sunday evening, and weekends always make him feel slightly more domestic—though he works three hundred and sixty-five days a year. He can’t remember the last time he’s taken a day off.

With a sigh, he ends the call from the intercom speaker on his desk and closes his laptop. The staff eats dinner early on Sundays so they can have time to prepare for Monday, so it’s likely he’s missed having company during his meal. As he stretches and stands, heading for the door, his brother’s teasing voice echoes in his head. _You’re the only rich, powerful alpha I know who has no friends._ The words hadn’t stung at the time, a few months back during one of Gabriel’s surprise visits. Castiel has never seen the need to maintain an active social life, so he’d simply shrugged the information away. But when he pointed out that Missouri and Ellen, and Charlie and Kevin—his entire staff, really—could be considered friends, his brother had said, _you can’t be friends with people on your payroll._

Most days Castiel would disagree. His staff is quite familiar with him, and honest and upfront—brutally so, when needed. But he supposes Gabriel makes a half-decent point. Can anyone truly be themselves around him if they’re constantly worried about their job security?

He reaches the kitchen and swings the double doors open, spotting Ellen over the sink, her apron wet with dishwater. 

“Hey, boss,” she calls breezily, shutting off the faucet and smiling at him. The table in the kitchen is long and shiny metal, a roomy rectangular shape that Castiel had spotted in an estate sale and liked instantly. His personal style is less “pillars and marble” and more sleek minimalist, which this house is anything but. Some days he’s not even sure why he’s kept it, considering how his family’s legacy only brings him heartache. 

Castiel had been right about his assumption—the table has already been cleared, only a few dishes hinting that his staff had dined together moments ago. He frowns, wishing he had been able to attend Dean’s first dinner. He hopes Missouri introduced him nicely and brought him into the fold.

Jo comes bustling in from the back door, her blonde hair in a high ponytail. “Wondered when we’d be seeing you,” she chirps. “Should I set the dining room?”

Jo always asks, but generally she knows the answer. Castiel feels quite miserly and lonely, eating in a white-pillared room with crystal glasses and candlesticks. The only time the dining room sees any use is when important company is in town.

“No, here is fine,” he says, walking over the stone hearth and warming his hands by the fire. It’s unseasonably cold for spring. “How was dinner? Is Dean adjusting well?”

Ellen and Jo exchange matching smirks, and Castiel’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. He’s about to probe for more info when the back door swings open again, Dean himself coming in through the threshold.

“Well, trash is done. And I gotta say, even in a swanky ass place like this, it’s nice to see that a dumpster is still a dumpster. That thing stunk to high—” He halts in his tracks when spots Castiel, door latching behind him as he swallows, eyes wide, “—heaven.”

There’s that familiar spunk that Castiel noticed during the meeting with Dick. Not that Castiel doesn’t have an excellent staff already, but the omega is refreshing and vibrant in a way Cas can’t pinpoint. Being in Dean’s presence is like a breath of fresh air. 

He laughs and says, “Yes, there’s no glamor in trash disposal, I’m afraid.” Dean exhales, looking relieved, as if he expected Castiel to find his comments insulting. “Thank you for doing that, but you’re not even on the clock yet, Dean.”

Dean shrugs. “I’m used to helping out.” 

Castiel thinks the omega is likely more used to running an entire household, including a teenage brother and an alcoholic father, which is much more responsibility than a twenty-year-old should carry. But he doesn’t reply, just nods thankfully and heads to the kitchen table. Jo brings him a plate soon and Castiel digs into a pork chop with potatoes and salad on the side, unusually ravenous. Dean helps Ellen and Jo with the dishes, and Castiel wonders briefly if he’s just trying to get on Castiel’s good side—prove to the new boss that he’s a hard worker—but watching him interact with the two women, he doesn’t think that’s true. He evidently likes to stay busy, and he’s already joking with Ellen about needing a drink if he’s going to be subjected to Jo’s bossiness for the next six months. 

“That’s a good idea,” Castiel interrupts, making everyone turn to look at him. He pushes his plate away, feeling full and satiated. “A toast, to your first night here.”

Ellen quirks an eyebrow up—when Duma joined the staff two months ago as the head of Public Relations, Castiel hadn’t given the new employee much fanfare. But she was a tough, sharp-tongued publicist from New York. For all of Dean’s tough exterior charm, there’s something about him that’s quite vulnerable, a tenderness that Castiel wants to nurture and protect. 

“Got any whiskey?” Dean asks to fill the silence, and Jo and Ellen chuckle and oblige him, reaching into the top shelf of the pantry and coming back with a bottle of Johnny Labinski's Kentucky whiskey. It’s a cheaper brand and will definitely burn going down, but when Ellen pours them each a coffee mug worth’s and they gather around Castiel at the table, Dean by his side, the burn suddenly feels welcome. 

“To Dean,” Castiel says evenly, feeling Dean shift beside him, their arms brushing. Ellen and Jo echo him, but Dean just turns bright pink and takes a long swig of his mug. Everyone comes up from their drink with a rough cough except for Dean, which Castiel finds curious. He guesses that Dean’s likely been drinking since a very early age.

“So, Dean,” Ellen begins conversationally, though Castiel knows the tell-tale signs of an interrogation coming, “how’d you get hired on?”

Dean stares down at his coffee mug, biting his lip. It’s a distracting look for someone with lips _this_ pretty, and Castiel pointedly looks away. He realizes that he and Dean haven’t come to an arrangement about how much the staff will know about his situation, and he recognizes his error the moment Ellen’s maternal instincts paint them into a corner.

“Whaddya mean?” Dean grumbles, reaching for the whiskey and pouring himself another cup. Ellen and Jo exchange careful glances, as if they’re not quite sure how to word the question. 

“Well, it’s just…” Jo pauses, the silence deafening to Castiel, before adding, “You know you’re the first omega here, right? So we figured your interview must’ve been like, amazing. You’re probably some Harvard grad or politician’s son or the next Mark Zuckerberg.”

“I, uh…” Dean takes a long, hard swallow of his whiskey. Castiel knows he should let Dean decide how to handle this situation, but he can feel the tension rolling off Dean in spades and can’t resist the urge to soothe him. 

“Dean gave a wonderful interview,” Castiel says, straightening his back to his full alpha height. It’s entirely a lie—if their negotiation in Roman’s conference room had been an interview, then Dean spent the majority of the time trying to get out of Castiel’s potential employment. But Cas can’t fault the man for his fear, his hesitations—there are a lot of alphas who would take advantage of a contract with an omega as stunning as Dean Winchester. It’s one reason why Castiel agreed to absolve his father’s debt, because he’s one of the few alphas in the world who will be able to resist Dean. “I have no doubt he’ll be an excellent assistant.”

Dean gives him a look of incredulity, of relief, then turns to Ellen and Jo and flashes a cocky smirk. “Yep, guess you could say I nailed it.”

Jo snorts and Ellen rolls her eyes, and the momentary tension seems to dissolve. They spend another few minutes chatting before the remaining plates and mugs are washed up, and they no longer have an excuse to linger in the kitchen. The staff’s quarters are in the east wing, while Castiel’s business is conducted on the central first floor, and his bedroom is on the second story of the west wing. It’s an expansive floor plan overall, and some of the long-term employees even have separate cottages only a path away from the main house. He feels oddly comforted by the knowledge that Dean is staying under his roof, though they have no chance of accidentally crossing paths at night. Castiel steps up the grand staircase and enters his wing, passing his personal library (where he hides a large stash of detective novels) and a theater room (where he occasionally goes on Netflix binges) until throwing open the French doors of his bedroom. 

It’s barely eight o’clock, but already his king-sized bed is a welcomed sight. He has a lunch meeting tomorrow with Zachariah Alder, and though he loathes the idea of Dean’s first official day on the job involving someone so underhanded, it’s the reality of Castiel’s workplace situation. 

He takes a long, hot shower in his enormous walk-in, the cracked stone tile rough and textured against his feet. He lets his mind wander, analyzing the day’s events. It’s pleasing to see Dean fitting in so smoothly already, and he’ll need to alert Charlie to set Dean up with his own laptop and email account first thing tomorrow. Perhaps Castiel can take a long run in the morning during Dean’s onboarding session. Despite being mentally fatigued, he seems to have a lot of pent-up energy today, a fact that becomes undeniable when he glances down and notices he’s hard. That happens so rarely these days—Castiel’s private thoughts are generally quite business-focused—that he decides to indulge himself. 

He lathers up his right hand with body wash and strokes himself, gasping a little at the instant spark of adrenaline coursing through his veins. Yes, his rut must be coming any day now, though his calendar estimates are way off. He flicks his wrist and tightens his grip and moans, unabashedly, because he has the entire floor to himself. He keeps his thoughts vague as he strokes harder, but the image of pretty pink lips and bright green eyes and freckles keep appearing, unbidden, into his mind. He stops immediately, panting and redirecting his fantasies away from anyone familiar. _Anyone strictly off-limits._ He still has a headache, which takes a little bit of the relaxation factor away, but he’s on the verge of coming when he hears it.

Footsteps.

His hand slows and he strains his hearing, wondering if it’s just Missouri coming to confirm some details for tomorrow. But she would’ve sent him an email or text first. The floorboards creak and Castiel sighs, figuring it’s just his luck that the one day he’s feeling indulgent, it’s rudely interrupted. He shuts off the water and only dries halfway before slinging a towel around his waist. He wears blockers out in public and around the house, of course, but there’s a short window of time after he bathes where his natural alpha scent permeates the room. It’s why his bedroom smells like him—woodsy and light, like sandalwood, with a slight spicy sweetness, cinnamon or cloves. He pads out of his bathroom, walking awkwardly because of his erection, and checks his phone. 

**Missouri 8:21 PM >>** heading by to confirm tomorrow’s meeting agenda. should only take a sec

Ah, well that explains it. Castiel drops his phone and is heading for his wardrobe when there’s a knock on his door. Missouri has worked for him for years now, keeping track of his entire household, so she’s certainly seen him in various states of dress. She’s also smelled his scent, and compared it to her alpha great-grandfather. Castiel wasn’t sure if he found the comparison at all flattering, but he supposed her heart was in the right place. 

“Fair warning, Missouri,” he calls through the door, reaching for the knob, “I haven’t had time to—” 

He halts, dead in his tracks, when he sees…not his trusty right-hand woman in his doorway. 

But Dean.

Dean is dressed down in sweatpants and a t-shirt, his hair ruffled, lips parted in surprise. His eyes roam Castiel’s naked chest, the water dripping from his hair, and his gaze sinks lower to the towel around Castiel’s waist, concealing his hard and throbbing cock.

Castiel isn’t quite sure this could get any worse. 

“Shit,” Dean breathes, but he doesn’t take a step back. “I’m…I’m sorry. Jesus, seriously, sorry. I just came by to thank you for covering for me back there, with Ellen and Jo. I’m pretty embarrassed by the fucked-up mess my dad got me in, and I’d rather not spread that news to everyone, y’know? And you really helped me out and you didn’t have to, and my room is freaking amazing with the TV and the two bedrooms and the fancy suits, and I just wanted to say—” Dean breathes in and out, leaning closer. “You burning a candle or something? It smells _really_ fucking good in there.”

Castiel is so dumbfounded that he stumbles headfirst into the truth. “No, that’s just me—off the scent blockers.”

Dean hums in the back of his throat and licks his lips, eyes fixated again on Castiel’s bare, wet abdomen. “Cool,” he mumbles, clearing his throat. “Well, uh, sorry again. Just wanted to say thanks.”

He turns to leave but Castiel pulls him by the shoulder, Dean spinning back around quickly. “It’s fine, Dean. I’m sorry we didn’t discuss a cover story more thoroughly beforehand, but I’m fine with keeping things vague for the staff.” A pain shoots through his temple and winces, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “As for your appearance here, in my bedroom, did Missouri not mention that the west wing normally isn’t open to staff?”

Dean glances down at the floor guiltily. “Yeah, she mighta mentioned it. I just wanted to see—or say—” He breathes out rapidly, as if he’s having difficulty sharing the air. “Won’t happen again.”

“Good,” Castiel says, rubbing at his forehead again. “Goodnight, Dean.”

“Goodnight,” Dean mutters, though he looks inquisitive, as if leaving is the last thing he wants to do. “Hey, not my business so feel free to tell me to go to hell, but are you feeling okay?”

Castiel chuckles, trying to imagine a scenario where he would ever say that to Dean. There are plenty of people who deserve it, and plenty of people who have been on the receiving end of Castiel’s wrath, but he has a feeling this omega won’t be one of them. “No, I’m not at my best this evening. I’ve had a raging headache all day.”

Dean frowns, looking genuinely concerned. “Meds?”

“I’ve tried. No effect today, it seems,” Castiel says miserably. 

Dean scratches the back of his neck, looking down at his feet again. “I can try something if you want?”

Castiel’s mouth goes dry. He has no idea what Dean has in mind, but the implication of him standing there—a gorgeous omega—with Castiel practically nude, badly concealing an erection with his blockers off… 

“No, no, I’m sure I’ll manage.”

He expects Dean to retreat, but when he responds, he’s simply more insistent. “Seriously, man, my dad gets those alpha headaches right around his ruts and there’s a trick to ganking ‘em quick.”

Castiel eyes him warily, but figures he won’t be trying to seduce Castiel anytime soon if he’s mentioning his father, so he shrugs and says, “What is it, exactly?”

Dean sticks a finger down, spinning it in a circle, instructing him to turn around with the patience of a kindergarten teacher. Castiel chuckles, wondering if he should feel patronized—but mostly just thinking that Dean is being rather adorable. Which is an unprofessional thought he squashes immediately as he turns around, giving Dean access to his bare back. _Come on, Castiel. It’s not like you’ve never been around omegas before…_

And then Dean’s hands are on his skin, and even though it’s more clinical than sensual, Castiel fights the urge to shiver. “There’s a pressure point along your spine—” Dean starts at the top of Castiel’s back and skims his hands down, rough and strong, kneading the muscles there. “Usually right about…here.” With his hands on Castiel’s lower back, he presses his thumbs in and something cracks and pops, Castiel gasping a little at the sensation. The throbbing in his head eases away and he turns to look at Dean in amazement. Dean’s hands linger on his skin, and he resists the urge to lean into the touch.

“That’s extraordinary,” he says breathlessly, while Dean just stands there, looking pleased with himself. _Happy to help his alpha,_ a distant part of Castiel’s brain supplies, and he shakes the thought immediately out of his head. 

“S’nothing. Least I could do for, uh, walking in on you all—” He coughs, takes another long inhale of the room, before walking backwards through the threshold. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Castiel says, practically in a daze. His body is relaxed and turned on and feeling an entire range of sensation that he’s not prepared for. “See you tomorrow.”

He watches Dean descend down the hallway and then closes his door. Two minutes later, he’s managed to pull up a pair of sleep pants when his next visitor arrives—a smirking Missouri, with her eyebrows raised. 

“Just getting dressed, were you?” she says dryly. When Castiel doesn’t answer, she adds, “I passed Mister Winchester on the way up.”

Castiel breathes out heavily, raking his hands through his hair. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Missouri eyes him with distrust and mischief, throwing her hands up. “Sir, you don’t pay me judge. But if you did…” She drops her voice down to a whisper. “I’d say you’ve gotten yourself into quite the predicament, haven’t you?”

Castiel swallows, but he doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. He’s sure the truth of that statement is painted, painfully, all over his face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys…is it weird to say we're obsessed with y'all? Because we are 100% OBSESSED WITH YOU GUYS. We've loved every comment, every convo. We can't believe the insane amount of hits chapter 2 received. Hits aren't everything, obviously—we would be writing this story even if it was just for us, because we love creating together—but seriously, the amount of love and attention this story has received fills our hearts to the freaking brim. You are all incredibly supportive and lovely humans, and we couldn't appreciate you more.
> 
> Speaking of, all your well wishes from last week did us both some good, because our weeks hugely improved! We're not totally convinced you guys aren't magic, tbh, so keep the good vibes coming.
> 
> xoxo,
> 
> TCBaby & CB

This is the fluffiest bed Dean thinks he’s ever slept in. He stretches out under the soft down comforter and feels blindly for his phone to turn off the alarm. Dean can’t remember the last time he slept so well. The mattress at his house has seen better days and has a bit of a sway to the middle of it. He wiggles out of bed finally, not wanting to be late on his first day. 

He checks his phone and sees a text from Sam—apparently he took the trash out on his way to school and Dad never came home. The guilt twists Dean’s stomach over his good night's sleep. He wishes Sam could stay here with him. The high-speed wifi, the gym, the comfortable bed, a room of his own. Sam deserves that kind of stuff. He’s not making much of anything working for Novak, though he is getting free room and board and working off the debt. He thinks he can send home all of his paycheck right to Sam though, since he really won’t need much of anything here. Maybe he can get Sam a new mattress for his birthday.

He also has several texts from Bobby and two voicemails he doesn’t want to answer. He was hoping to put off talking to him about all this, knowing Bobby would have tried to fix the situation even if it bankrupted him. He wonders if his dad called him, but then he remembers they aren’t on speaking terms at the moment. Must have been Sam who ratted him out. He sends a quick text to ease Bobby’s mind, telling him he’s fine and he’ll call him later. Not a phone call…he’s sure as shit gonna get called an “idjit” at least twice before he gets a word in.

He takes a quick shower and tries not to think of how hot Mr. Novak had looked last night. All wet and muscled with just a towel over him. Dean can still smell that wonderful woodsy scent that makes his mouth water. He’d tried and failed not to notice the sizeable tent the alpha was pitching under that towel the night before, too. He shivers at the thought of what that monster could do. Dean has his toys for his heats, but none of it ever felt very good and he had a feeling they wouldn’t hold a candle to Castiel—no, Mr. Novak. As he washes himself he lets his fingers dance around his hole, teasing at it. The muscles still ache a bit from his prior heat, only now in a delicious sort of way. He hums at the sensation as his cock starts to perk up.

_There’s no way he would fit. God, that stretch… What the fuck am I even thinking! It doesn’t need to fit because I’m not going to sleep with my boss._

Dean growls at himself as he gets out of the shower, embarrassed at his own thoughts and doggedly ignoring his half-hard cock. He opens a few drawers till he finds a pair of grey slacks and a light blue dress shirt. He sees a line of ties hanging in the closet but he has no idea how to tie one. Again, he’s reminded of just how little he fits in this world. He goes without the tie, hoping for business casual look. Checking himself in the mirror quickly, he thinks he looks like a kid playing dress up.

He grabs a quick breakfast before checking his watch to see he’s right on time, at least judging by the rumbling voice inside Castiel’s office. He knocks twice and hears someone say something in response, so he chances going inside. He peers around the door to see Castiel leaning against his desk, phone pressed to his ear and beckoning him inside. He closes the door as quietly as he can and stands awkwardly waiting by the door.

“Yes… I need to see it broken down by region…because I do…yes, send it over as soon as you have it.” Castiel sighs, rubbing at his brow. “Thank you.” Dropping the phone on the table, Castiel finally looks up at Dean. A warm smile breaks across his face and it’s startlingly bright. Dean stares back helplessly trying to think of something to say, thinking that his mouth is hanging open like a fish, when finally Castiel clears his throat.

“Good morning, Dean. I trust you slept well?” Castiel’s voice is like a warm, silky rumble and it makes his stomach do backflips.

“Yes, the bed was amazing…memory foam… it remembers me.” He chuckles awkwardly and rubs at the back of his neck.

Castiel quirks a grin. “I don’t think anyone could forget you, Dean.”

He feels a heat rise in his cheeks, unsure of how to respond to that. He’s saved by a knock at the door, and he opens it as redheaded woman bustles in.

“Morning, boss man. So where’s the newb I keep hearing about?” She smiles, looking around the room till her eyes land on Dean. “Hey there, you must be Dean.” She extends a hand, tucking a laptop under her other arm.

“Hi, and you must be Charlie?” he asks, hoping he remembered the name right.

“Charlie is one of the brightest minds we have around here,” Castiel says, sounding very fond of her.

“One and only. I don’t normally get all new people set up with their computers,” she stage whispers to him, “but I needed an excuse to come size you up.”

“And?” he asks, holding out his arms to the side.

“ _Wars_ or _Trek_?”

“Uh, both.”

“What’s your house?”

“My house?”

“Yeah, I’m a Ravenclaw. What’s your house?”

Dean flushes a little that he even has an answer to this. “Gryffindor.”

“Figured. Okay, if you could bring back any cancelled show what would it be?”

Dean thinks for a moment, then answers with a confident, “ _Firefly_.”

Charlie’s smile lights up the room. “Okay boss, you can keep him.”

“Glad you approve.” Castiel rolls his eyes and actually winks at Dean.

Charlie pulls him aside and gives him a crash course on his computer, showing him his email and calendar and Skype messaging. He’s only really worked with computers for school, and occasionally to check out certain sites that Sam scolds him for. Luckily, Charlie is super patient and very good at explaining things to him. She gets him set up at a small desk outside of Castiel’s office door before she heads out to go do whatever it is she does—he didn’t quite understand when she explained it.

He’s skimming through Castiel’s calendar when he feels a hand on his shoulder, and looks up to see Castiel next to him. His navy suit is perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and he looks especially sharp with his burgundy tie. Dean never really liked suits…but on Castiel, it’s mouthwatering.

“Did Charlie get you all set up?” He gestures towards Dean’s computer.

“Oh yeah, she showed me everything. Looks like you have a pretty busy schedule today?”

“I do, yes. Most of my meetings are conference calls, so if you could look at that to-do list Missouri left over here…” Castiel leans over him and points out a to-do bar on the side of his calendar. “Then I have an in-person consultation meeting with Mr. Adler around lunch. I’d like it if you can sit in and take notes for me.”

“Yeah sure, no problemo.” He hopes he isn’t completely bored stiff in the first hour on the job. Castiel nods, twisting to crack his back a little. Dean can still see the tension in his body and the heat in his cheeks. Dean wonders if his headache is bad again and if he should offer to use the pressure point. He just wants to be a good employee and help his boss have a good day, right? That’s a totally normal impulse and has nothing to do with getting his hands on Castiel again. Plus, Dean is just a natural caregiver…and no, it has nothing to do with being an omega, despite what his dad says.

“Thank you, Dean. Just let me know if you have any questions.” He reaches over to give Dean a squeeze on his shoulder, hand lingering just a little too long before it pulls away. Dean grits his teeth to keep his composure, wishing to hell this alpha didn’t affect him so. Castiel slips back into his office, leaving Dean in the quiet of the hall again.

He starts clicking through the list, calling the laundry service to find where the Tuesday dry cleaning delivery went. He reschedules two conflicting conference calls, replies to a few meeting requests and emails, and he can already feel his eyes start to burn. He’s thrilled when Missouri messages him that Mr. Adler has arrived, asking if he can come escort him to Castiel’s office.

He heads toward the main foyer and finds a tall balding man in a fine tailored suit waiting by the door. Dean’s nose immediately picks up on the heavy scent of alpha as he approaches, and it’s a shock to the system. Everyone in the household wears blockers, and he’s been in a relatively scent-free environment the past twenty-four hours. Well, other than Ellen’s cooking—but that’s the kind of smell he’s all for. He schools his face from wrinkling his nose at the noxious bitter scent.

“Hello, Mr. Adler?” He tries for a smile, but it may be more like a grimace.

“Yes, but you are certainly not Mr. Novak.” The man eyes him up and down.

“Uh, no sir, he’s in his office, I can show you the way.” Dean nods and leads the guy down the hall.

“You a new hire?” the man asks him.

“First day, actually,” he replies, feeling uneasy around this guy.

“Hmm, well word of advice. Adults wear ties, kiddo.” He snorts a quick laugh as they reach the door, and Dean feels the heat rise across his face. He’s not gonna rise to the bait. He knocks on Castiel’s door and hears him yell to come in, so he holds the door open for the pompous alpha douche. “Castiel. You’re looking well.”

“Zachariah, how was your trip to Japan?”

“Productive, as usual. But you probably know that already.” Mr. Adler claps Castiel on the shoulder, and Dean looks to the small table and notices a notepad and pen. He settles himself in the corner, really unsure of what kind of information he should be taking notes on.

“So you had a new acquisition you were considering?” Castiel asks as he gestures for Adler to sit. Dean does his best not to zone out while they talk. He writes down any big numbers that Adler quotes and a few problems he mentions.

“It’s going to cost a lot to keep those employees on the books, but I figure we can cut headcount by about ten percent and it should make up the difference,” Adler muses.

This catches Dean’s attention. “Didn’t you say the company has two thousand employees?”

Both men turn to look at Dean, Adler looking annoyed and Castiel looking…curious?

“Yes, I believe that is current head count,” Castiel replies smoothly.

“As I was saying—”

“But that’s laying off two hundred people,” Dean interjects, because apparently he can’t control his mouth today.

“Look at that. The boy can’t find a tie, but he can do basic arithmetic.” Adler laughs and Dean scowls at the man. To his shock, it seems like Castiel is scowling at Adler as well before his face resumes its normal stoic facade.

“He is capable of many things, I assure you. Now, we can look into other avenues where expenses can be cut on the P&L, but you’re right that would be the simplest way to get the company closer to meeting its EBITDA goals. I can run a few numbers and tell you what I advise,” Castiel replies swiftly before standing. “Thank you for coming out, Zach. Call me if you have any more questions.”

Mr. Adler stands, shaking his hand. Dean bites his tongue to not say anything else. Castiel walks Adler out while the balding man shoots Dean a little knowing smile that has his blood boiling. Dean waits in the office, tugging at his open collar—feeling angry and embarrassed all at once. Is Castiel really gonna recommend he fire all those people? Just to pad the bottom line? He knew he should have at least tried to figure out the tie thing.

“Dean?” 

His eyes whip around to meet the all but glowing blue of Castiel’s. If he wasn’t sure about the rut before, he is now—seeing the bright color to his eyes confirms it’s coming. A reasonable omega would exit stage left or keep their mouth shut, but no one could ever accuse Dean of taking the easy road.

****

“What did you think of your first meeting?” Castiel asks, perched on the edge of his desk in an attempt to seem casual. There’s something about Dean that makes him want to be informal, to cross all the professional boundaries he’s set for himself. 

“It was…” Dean pauses, scratching the back of his neck. He’s spent the past few seconds gazing into Castiel’s eyes, and it makes the alpha’s skin buzz, his hands fidgeting from adrenaline. Having Dean’s undivided attention seems to have that effect on him.

Castiel waves a hand, encouraging Dean to continue. 

“It was fine,” Dean says with a long exhale. Castiel raises his eyebrows, sensing there’s more to Dean’s opinion. 

“Dean, I don’t ask much of my employees,” he begins, watching the omega’s back straighten up, “but I do ask them to be honest with me.”

“Oh…” Dean eyes widen, barely concealing his surprise. “You sure?”

Castiel nods, and Dean drops his notepad in his empty chair and takes a step closer. “Well, Mr. Alder is a huge freaking dick. His scent alone made me wanna puke.” Dean shivers, and Castiel fights the urge to rest a comforting hand on his shoulder. He feels like a gigantic fool—he has an omega employee now, following him nearly everywhere, even though a large portion of his clients are alphas. Why had he not even considered what effect their scent might have on his new assistant?

“Dean, I apologize. I didn’t even think about the impact his scent might have on your comfort level,” he admits, hoping he looks as apologetic as he feels. “When you and Missouri setup my appointments, let’s add in a clause requesting scent blockers for all attendees. I can’t guarantee you that they’ll wear them, but I can certainly try to enforce it on your behalf.”

Dean blinks, as if he’s having difficulty processing this information. “That’s, uh, nice of you. But I’m used to it by now. It’s really no big deal.”

Castiel crosses his arms, trying to decide how much to press the issue. “No, I want you to have a safe and comfortable work environment. Everyone deserves that.”

Dean shrugs, cheeks looking a little pink. “Cool, I guess…thanks.” He shuffles on his feet and mumbles, “But it’s not all bad, y’know. I can usually tell a lot about an alpha, just from their scent.” He meets Castiel’s eyes again, some significance burning in his gaze. Castiel’s skin feels heated, his forearms sweating underneath his button-up. Is Dean thinking about what happened last night, when he came to Castiel’s bedroom and caught a whiff of him off the blockers? What had he learned about Castiel, simply from his scent? 

Castiel clears his throat, suddenly aware that they’re alone inside his office. “Good to know. As to your other point, I agree with you—Zachariah Alder is quite the ‘dick.’” He smiles easily, trying to diffuse the tension, and Dean mirrors him. 

“Seriously. To suggest laying off two hundred people without batting an eye…” Dean trails off, sounds irritated as he crosses his arms. 

“That’s business, I’m afraid. Budget cuts have to come from somewhere,” Castiel says vaguely, his mind already onto his next task. He has several business proposals to look over this afternoon, and while he’d usually sneak into the kitchen for a cup of coffee after lunch, he’s feeling jittery enough already. 

“I know people say that, but…” Dean’s gaze is unwavering, unapologetic, and Castiel can’t look away. “Well, last year Uncle Bobby went through hard times at the shop. But he never laid off a single person. Said owning a business was about being loyal to your employees and your customers, not the ‘almighty dollar.’”

“Your uncle sounds like he has real integrity,” Castiel says, feeling uneasy in a way he can’t name. “Unfortunately, those aren’t the kind of people I tend to do business with.”

Dean opens his mouth but closes it instead, looking disappointed. Castiel wishes he could tell the omega differently—that his profits come from working with upstanding citizens. That his efforts make the world a better place, rather than pouring gasoline on to the capitalist machine. But that’s just not the reality of his situation. While Dean’s worldview is charming, it’s also incredibly naive. Castiel is keenly aware of their twelve-year age gap in this moment, and it makes him feel like a weathered old miser for disillusioning a spirit as pure as Dean’s.

“Still, I would advise you to keep your opinions to yourself in front of potential clients,” Castiel warns lightly, thinking back to Dean’s earlier implication that laying off two hundred people was somehow unforgivable. Even if he’s right, it’s inappropriate for his assistant to question Alder so openly. “I appreciate your opinions, Dean…” _And your spunk, your charisma, your honesty._ “But we have to maintain some semblance of professionalism in business dealings, even in disagreements.”

Dean glances down, an attractive blush coloring his cheeks. “Yeah, I get that. Sorry.” 

“It’s okay. It’s your first day, and there’s certainly a learning curve here.” He sighs, wondering why he’s acting so surprised by Dean’s outburst. Isn’t that what drew him to the omega to begin with? “Go ahead and grab some lunch,” he says, craving some time alone to focus on his work. “Ellen will make you a sandwich if you’d like.”

“I can make my own,” Dean mutters, almost defensively, and Castiel has to remind himself that this is not a man comfortable with being taken care of. The thought makes Castiel’s heart ache, but he pushes the feeling aside. “You, uh, want anything?”

“I’m fine,” Castiel says dismissively, already pulling up his laptop and peering at his overflowing inbox. He doesn’t look up as Dean’s exit, but dives headfirst into skimming a business proposal that’s over seventy pages—much too long, in Castiel’s opinion. Still, he loses himself in the charts and graphs, eventually rubbing his temples when a headache starts to form. He’s hot, practically sweltering, and he throws off his suit jacket and rolls up his button-up to the elbows. He feels terrible…perhaps he should’ve taken a lunch break after all. 

Castiel isn’t sure how much time has passed when the door cracks open again, but when Dean reenters, he’s a welcome sight. He’s also holding a small plate with a sandwich on it, heaping full with deli meat and lettuce and tomato. He looks sheepish as he slides it on Castiel’s desk. 

“Ellen told me not to bother, but I, uh, figured you might get hungry,” he says, blushing a little. A flurry of butterflies invades Castiel’s stomach. 

“That’s very kind of you,” Castiel says, genuinely pleased as he slides the plate closer. “And perfectly timed—I was just regretting my lack of lunch.”

Dean beams, as if taking care of Castiel brings him immeasurable joy, and the alpha shifts in his seat. He feels nearly feverish just at the sight of Dean, and he averts his eyes and stares down at his sandwich, picking it up and taking a large bite. The burst of flavor is better than usual, and he moans a little as he swallows, Dean sitting at his own desk and chuckling quietly.

“Ellen has refined her skills over the years,” Castiel tells him conversationally, holding the sandwich up to his eyeline. “This makes me very happy.”

“I, uh, made it, actually,” Dean mutters, that beautiful blush returning. “Trick is—double the meat, add super crisp lettuce, and the mayo has a little dijon mustard mixed in.”

Castiel takes another bite, suddenly ravenous. “Well, if you ever tire of me, I imagine Ellen would benefit from your expertise in the kitchen.”

“I don’t think I would,” Dean says, looking distracted as he opens his laptop.

“You don’t think you would enjoy working in the kitchens?” Castiel asks curiously.

“No, uh…tire of you, I mean. I don’t think I would,” Dean says quietly, and something warm and content curls against Castiel’s chest. It’s the last thing they say for several hours, working in companionable silence as Castiel reads through his stack of proposals and Dean works through his to-do list. In the late afternoon, the sound of the gardener, Joshua, trimming the shrubs by the office window breaks both of their concentrations. Castiel asks Dean if he wouldn’t mind brewing him a cup of decaf, and even though Dean gapes at him—as if the very concept of coffee without caffeine is ludicrous—he seems eager to leave his desk. Castiel chuckles, remembering how restless he was when he was hired for his first office job. He should really try and sprinkle in more active duties for Dean to do—a twenty-year-old mechanic would surely be stir crazy suddenly sitting eight to ten hours a day.

Dean returns quickly, coming behind Castiel and dropping the coffee mug beside his open palm. He stretches over, a hand on Castiel’s shoulder as he grabs Castiel’s empty plate from lunchtime. Something about the contact makes Castiel’s skin feel warm, his forehead clammy, and he stands up in a rush. Before he’s quite aware what’s happening, he’s pushed Dean against the wall. 

_Hard._

The omega pants, eyes wide with an emotion Castiel can’t discern, and he mutters, “Y-your eyes… Jesus.”

Castiel stares down at Dean’s lip, all pink and parted, and his every instinct is begging him to bury his nose into the crook of Dean’s neck. He longs to scent him, though he logically knows the blockers would mask the sweet omega perfume. Still, just marking his omega with his own alpha musk, putting his mouth on his scent glands, kissing and biting and groping that perfect bottom, slipping a hand between his cheeks while he unbuttons his trousers—

Castiel takes several stumbling steps back, breathing heavily through his mouth. Pulling away from Dean feels torturous, totally counterintuitive to what his body is begging him to do, but he manages. 

“Dean, I’m so sorry,” he says, hands on his knees as he pants heavily. He can’t believe how vividly he pictured Dean in various states of undress, how badly he wants him. The guilt and panic at potentially ruining things between him and Dean—professionally, of course—makes Cas feel sick to his stomach. “It seems my rut has finally hit. I’ve never been around an omega during the onset, but I fear it’s made me behave quite unforgivably towards you. I wouldn’t blame you if wanted to terminate our contract—”

“No!” Dean says, a panic rising to his voice. He blinks, seeming to regroup, and says in a more even tone, “I mean, it’s okay. Believe me, I know you can’t help that shit. One time I went into such a bad heat, I was begging the mailman to bend me over and—” Dean pauses, cheeks flushed red. “Yeah, that story probably won’t help, will it?”

“I would think not,” Castiel says flatly, trying with some concentration to get that visual out of his head. “I’m afraid I need to retire to my wing of the manor. Can you do me a favor?”

Dean swallows and nods.

“On your contact list, you’ll find a service number for rut assistance. Can you call them and tell them to send April over?”

“Oh…” Dean’s lip narrow into a thin line, almost as if he disapproves of Castiel using a paid service to get through his rut, but then he nods slowly. “Okay. Should I tell Missouri?”

Castiel nods gratefully, and adds, “Tell her she’ll also need to arrange for you to shadow the staff for the next few days.”

Dean wrinkles his eyebrows in confusion. “Why?”

Castiel turns his gaze up, risking a look at the omega. Dean’s sharp green eyes are filled with curiosity, his posture open and inviting, his tongue wetting his bottom lip. “Because I…” _Want to bend you over the nearest surface and have my way with you_. “Because I care about your safety.”

Dean looks indigidant, opening his mouth as if he wants to argue. But Castiel can’t stand to be alone in this room with Dean for another second, sweat forming on his temple, his skin hot and rashing. He’s half-hard, he realizes with overwhelming embarrassment, just from being in this omega’s presence. 

“Dean, this is non-negotiable,” he says firmly, using the innate authority of his alpha voice in a way he rarely does. To his surprise, Dean responds to it by tucking his head down and nodding in submission. It’s the last thing Castiel expected from a rebellious man like Dean Winchester, the young omega who dared to tell Dick Roman that he had “a lot of fucking nerve” to expect anything from him.

Castiel ignores the knots of pleasure twisting in his stomach at the sight of Dean’s obedience, knowing how rare and precious that must be. He gives Dean one last fleeting look of apology before tearing out of the room. He power walks down the hallway and takes the steps two at a time, willing his body to keep moving forward, to leave Dean in peace and get used to not seeing him for a few days.

Leaving the omega feels much worse than it should.

***

Dean’s stomach gives another painful twist, and he growls at the uncomfortable itch under his skin. It almost feels like the end of a heat cycle, though without the temperature spike and his mind is clear. His omega feels like its pacing inside his chest and clawing at the bars trying to get out…but for what? _Alpha, my alpha, alpha, alpha_. But he doesn’t have an alpha—Castiel is not his alpha, and it’s not Dean’s job to take care of him…despite the feeling in his gut telling him otherwise.

Dean called the rut service just as Castiel had asked, and now he finds himself waiting by front door for this April to arrive. He’d read the site, and she was one of the few betas available—most on the site were omegas. He stares at the door, almost willing it to stay silent, but eventually the doorbell chimes and he goes begrudgingly to answer.

“Why, hello there.” A petite woman with auburn hair stands on the doorstep, smiling at him. 

“April?” he asks, and if his voice is a bit rough…well, it’s probably just allergies.

“One and only. Castiel already tucked away in the west wing, I suppose? He always does wait till the last minute.” She chuckles, walking right past Dean and into the house. He feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “You got a name, grumpy gus?” she asks, eyebrows raised at him. Dean realizes he’s just standing there, scowling at her.

“Dean,” he grunts out. He knows he should try and be more polite, but he just can’t seem to manage it. He looks at her slight frame and can’t imagine what Castiel would see in her. She’s perfectly average and isn’t even designed to handle a rut like an omega is. It isn’t fair, that’s what it is. A beta can’t give Castiel what he really needs, not like Dean could. 

_Fuck_ …why was he even thinking like that? He glances down again to see the woman examining him with her eyes, making some assessment he doesn’t think he likes.

“Well, I think I can find it on my own, Dean. Have a nice day.” She rolls her eyes at him, and turning her back, heads off toward the west wing…leaving Dean a confused mess in her wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any bets on how this rut will go? 😈


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TrenchcoatBaby: So, CB, wanna know what my new favorite day of the week is?
> 
> CBFirestarter: Is it the same as mine?
> 
> TCB: I mean, we are in-sync on everything else, so I wouldn't be surprised…
> 
> CB: Is it.... POSTING DAY!
> 
> TCB: HELL YEAH IT IS.
> 
> TCB: Also, can you allow me to be sentimental for a sec?
> 
> CB: Always.
> 
> TCB: I can't decide what makes me more excited sometimes. Our story, our friendship, or our readers. ❤
> 
> CB: They are all pretty amazing and we are very lucky to have all three. ❤
> 
> TCB: We really are.
> 
> TCB: Well, enough chit-chat, I'm sure everyone is dying to know how Cas' rut went…
> 
> CB: I am sure it was completely smooth sailing (*insert evil author grin*).

Castiel wakes with his hand outstretched, his skin clammy and cold—full of goosebumps. How long has he been asleep? Better yet…what day is it?

He doesn’t know much, but he does know that this has been one of his worst ruts yet. His moments of being lucid have been far and few between, though a catalog of images appears behind his eyes—memories of his cock pounding into a wet, tight heat, of his muscles feeling vibrant with energy and arousal and need. The intensity of it makes him dizzy, and he sits up cautiously and shivers. He’s completely naked, and his bed is an utter mess. The sheets are slipping off at every corner, the seams of his favorite feather pillow seem to be ripped, and his bed is significantly more creaky than before. Is it…has he…

“Yeah, it’s broken,” a woman’s voice says casually in the doorway. April is wearing a slinky gray robe, her arms crossed as she grins. “You don’t remember, huh?”

Castiel avoids answering by pulling a sheet over him, stretching over towards the nightstand and retrieving a glass of water. He’s impossibly thirsty, though the water is tepid and stale. Who knows how long it’s been there, forgotten. 

“I’m afraid I don’t recall much,” he admits quietly. “What day is it?” 

“Thursday. The third full day of your rut,” April announces, almost clinically. “If I had to guess, you’ll be finishing up soon. But who’s to say, really, after the intensity of this one.”

Castiel’s mouth goes dry, and he feels a sudden rush of shame coursing through him. Though April is paid to assist him during these periods of his alphahood, and has done so for the last three ruts, now that he’s regained some of his facilities, he’s panicking—imagining all the wild, animalistic things he surely must’ve done to her. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, rather desperately, not sure what he’ll do with himself if she’s not. 

She snorts and comes around the side of his bed, pulling the curtains open. The setting sunlight makes Castiel wince, though he knows it’s better than sitting in a dark and isolated bedroom.

“Oh yeah,” she says with an aggressive nod, coming to sit on Castiel’s bed but not touching him. Despite the intimacy of their arrangement, their physical interactions are only ever rut-related, which he appreciates. He has no intention of seeing this as but anything but what it is. “No offense to past-you or anything, but you’ve really been holding out on me.”

Castiel’s eyes widen. “I…I’m not sure what you mean.”

April laughs softly and falls against the pillow, her hair spreading out in tendrils beneath her. “I mean, I feel guilty getting paid to do this. Though I wonder…” She flips onto her stomach, giving Castiel a curious gaze. “If this super-charged rut of yours has anything to do with _him_.”

Castiel has a flash of nervous confusion, which he covers by taking another large gulp of water. “Who?”

April rolls her eyes—a tad unprofessional in Castiel’s opinion, though he supposes the beta he pays for sex likely feels more comfortable with him than most. “You know who. The omega whose name you keep calling out.”

“What?” Castiel says sharply, nearly dropping the water glass in his haste to set it back down. “Calling out when…?”

Another memory comes to him then—April pinned to the wall, her legs wrapped around Castiel’s waist as his knot forms inside her, coming and coming as he shouts someone’s name. An omega’s name. _An employee’s name._ A name he certainly never, ever wanted anyone to hear him say aloud as he comes.

April holds her hands up, as if she’s not casting judgment on him. “Hey, I get it. Dean’s an omega, and he’s very pretty.”

Castiel groans, his head hanging heavy. He wants to argue that Dean is much more than his sexual designation or his outward appearance, but given Castiel’s behavior the past few days, that lecture likely wouldn’t land well. Though the majority of the memories are quite hazy, he’s not sure how he’ll ever face Dean again after this. His reaction to the omega, particularly the surge of lust he’s feeling for Dean during his rut, is horribly unprofessional. He thinks again about releasing Dean from his employment, but that would be punishing Dean for his _own_ lack of self-control. Sending him back to Dick Roman is absolutely out of the question—the thought alone makes Castiel’s hands ball into the sheets, fists tight. He could send Dean to work with Ellen, as he offhandedly joked once, but he doesn’t want Dean to think he’s being punished for something. Truth be told, he’s barely seen Dean’s abilities as his assistant, but he’s been more than capable thus far. Besides, Ellen and Jo have a perfectly manageable workflow arranged between them already. Even if he worked in kitchen, Castiel would still cross his path during mealtimes. 

No, the only way to justify getting space from Dean would be admitting that he apparently spent his entire rut fantasizing about his cock being buried the omega’s slick, tight hole… Definitely not an option, even if it is a beautiful image. He feels his cock give a stir beneath the sheet and rubs his hands against it, sighing at the immediate relief. He may not be at the “broken bed” stage of his rut, but the need to breed and fuck and come certainly hasn’t left him yet. 

“I know that look,” April says offhandedly, stretching and standing up. “Just let me go downstairs and grab some food for you, okay? Then I’ll be back, and you can fuck me into oblivion.”

Castiel chuckles awkwardly, never quite getting used to this arrangement between them, though April is likable enough. “A favor?”

April turns around in the door, hair messy and wild. She looks thoroughly ruffled and sex-worn, her skin slightly sweaty, her makeup smudged. Castiel’s almost embarrassed that she’ll be seen by his staff in such a fashion. 

“Anything.”

“Dean makes a very good sandwich…” Castiel trails off, scrubbing a hand over his face. “If he’s around, perhaps he’d make me one?”

It feels incredibly presumptuous to ask such a thing—Dean is probably in the middle of some very important training and can’t be bothered by Castiel and his cravings. But April just laughs, shaking her head. “Are you kidding me? He’ll be thrilled. If I had to guess, I’d say that Dean…” She stares at a spot on the carpet while Castiel forgets how to breathe, wondering how April planned to end that sentence. “Nevermind. Be back in a jiffy.”

It’s an unsatisfying answer, but when April returns to the west wing fifteen minutes later, Castiel has at least thrown a robe on. He’s left his bedroom and he’s sitting now in the expansive parlour, clearing away the clutter off a table so they’ll have space to eat. When he spots the silver tray in her hands with one of Dean’s famous sandwiches displayed prominently on a plate, his mouth waters. 

“I’ve been instructed to make sure you drink this first,” April says, sounding surly as she passes Castiel a sports drink.

“Ellen’s orders?” Castiel asks, taking a dutiful sip.

“Nope,” she says shortly, pulling a piece of folded paper from the pocket of her robe. She slides it across the table, as if that should answer his question. Castiel’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, but he has just enough of a clear head to unfold it and read.

_Hey Cas,_

_Figured you had probably lost a bunch of electrolytes, and Sammy’s always saying those are important to replenish during a rut, the big nerd. I’m guessing you like red gatorade, ‘cause they’re my favorite and I have great taste. Anyways, hope you’re feeling okay. I’ve been doing a little bit of everything while you’re away. Joshua even let me help plant some shrubs outside, which was much more fun than filing a thousand financial papers (but don’t tell Missouri I said that—she thinks I’m some sort of manilla-folder wizard now)._

_Well, April is giving me a dirty look so I better wrap this up. See you tomorrow?_

_-Dean_

_P.S. Your sandwich has mostly Italian cuts—ham, salami, pepperoni, and even capicola because I am occasionally a fancy bastard (though only when it comes to food)._

Castiel chuckles, shaking his head fondly as he reads and rereads the note. He wishes there was a way to speed up his rut and finish it out early—he misses his regular routine, misses the everyday people in his life. Against his better judgment, he misses Dean. He grins, his mood not souring even as April sits across from him, eating apple slices and giving him a wary glance. He takes the first bite into his sandwich and moans ridiculously, feeling half-hard all over again.

That’s how he ends up fucking April against the table twenty minutes later, and then again on the floor and the landing of the staircase, clutching her back and shoulders for stability as he closes his eyes. He’s unable to resist the urge to imagine a green-eyed omega is beneath him instead, can practically hear the rumble of Dean’s voice as he instructs _harder, faster, come on alpha, give me more._

This time, when he comes and says Dean’s name, he’s conscious of it—the way his whole body shakes and his voice trembles, husky and vulnerable as if he’s whispering a prayer.

***

“Dean, just the guy I’m looking for,” Jo pops up behind him and Dean startles a moment before greeting her.

“What’s up?” he asks, putting his bag of laundry down.

“Can you watch the security cameras for the next hour or so? I have an errand I need to run?”

“Sure thing. Where is it?” He had intended to figure out his laundry situation, but he can never say no when someone asks him for help. Jo turns and leads him down a hallway toward the west wing and into a small side door. They enter what is essentially a large closet tucked behind the big staircase. There’s a desk, a wall of TV screens, and two office chairs. He glances up at the black and white screens to see all different parts of the house, both inside and out.

“Just keep an eye on things. If you see anything off, just give me a buzz with the phone over there and dial three. I appreciate it…with Joshua at the farm stand and Mom out grabbing groceries, and Missouri working on the project with Kevin, I just want to be sure—”

“Dude relax, I got this. Go do what you gotta do.” Dean smiles at her reassuringly. She nods at him, and with quick slap to his shoulder, disappears through the door. Dean sighs, shifting his laundry bag and plopping down in one of the seats. He looks up at the screens and it’s utterly quiet. The past few days he’s kinda missed seeing Castiel. He was kinda grounding for Dean, and made him feel like it was okay he was there. Now he feels a bit like an intruder. He has kept far away from the west wing, not wanting to risk seeing Castiel or that smug beta, April. The woman still makes his hackles rise. He wonders though if Castiel liked his sandwich—he seemed to like that first one Dean made him. He may ask Ellen to grab him some different ingredients so he can make Cas one of his burgers.

He leans back in the chair, spinning left a few times and then right, just for good measure. He wishes he brought a book or something. He still can’t get over how big this place is. There’s a whole north wing to the house where Kevin, the VP of research and development, works on his projects. He’s seen Kevin a few times at dinner but he’s a pretty distracted guy, mumbling to himself and bolting up mid-meal to go back to his office or whatever. Missouri has been held up in there helping him with some new project the past two days.

As an hour ticks by, he feels his eyelids getting heavier and heavier. He thinks he just may go find where Jo is when he sees movement on the screen. Looking up, he sees two large double doors swinging open and two very naked people tumbling out of it. His eyes go wide as he watches Castiel shoving a smaller body up against the railing, hips hammering into them. Dean’s jaw hangs open in shock.

He _so_ should not be seeing this, nope, it is one hundred percent, totally inappropriate. He blinks, mesmerized by the screen, willing his frozen body to move. Castiel’s back muscles shift and flex as his ass clenches and legs strain, seeking purchase on the carpet. He can’t hear anything from the monitor, but there is a loud thump above his head that goes in time with Castiel pushing the beta flat onto the floor. Castiel’s whole body is fucking forward now, pushing her legs farther apart, and he looks like he’s trying to split her in two and _holy fuck_ …it’s the hottest thing Dean thinks he’s ever seen.

Castiel looks positively feral, hands pressing her into the carpet and just taking, taking, taking. Dean has watched alpha rut porn before—I mean, who hasn’t—but he didn’t think it would be so, so…wild in real life. His cock is is getting hard just at the sight of all that power. The way he’s taking her from behind has such a primal, delicious heat to it. He quickly reminds himself that this is his boss that he’s watching, and he should stop. He bolts up out of his seat and grabs his laundry, making a break for it. He gets into the hallway and immediately halts when he hears the sound above him. He presses up against the wall, laundry clutched to his chest sucking in slow ragged breaths.

“D-Dean!” a husky voice pants from the stairway above. Dean draws in breaths through his teeth, knuckles white where they grip the laundry bag. The scent of alpha rut is overwhelming and cloying and sweet, and he feels like a moth to a flame. A very sexy, handsome, blue-eyed flame that would hopefully devour him.

“Dean,” another labored breath. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. Castiel is crying out his name. He listens to the rhythmic thumping above and his heart races in time with it. He imagines all that heat and power, drilling in to him, pressing him against the floor till the boards creak. And, oh god, they really are creaking. He feels light headed, and every fiber of his being is screaming at him to run up those steps and take what he wants. He stumbles forward and presses into a run down the hall and far away from the west wing.

He finally stops when he nearly collides headfirst into Jo. After a quick stumble where he just misses her, he tumbles to the floor in a heap of laundry. 

“Holy crap, Dean? Are you okay?” 

He kicks and flails until he can see Jo standing over him, looking bewildered.

“I uh, sorry, uh, you’re back. Great, no more security screen then. I gotta get my laundry done,” he mumbles out, scooping up the dropped clothes.

“Don’t think that warranted the hundred meter dash.” Jo chuckles, but reaches out a hand to help him up. He takes it and steadies himself a moment, feeling like his heart is still about to hammer out of his chest.

“Sorry 'bout that,” he mutters an apology. He’s never been so happy for blockers keeping his heady scent of arousal in check.

“You can just leave your laundry outside your room. We have a service that washes it.” Jo nods back toward the suites. Dean knew the estate had a service, he just didn’t think it applied to him.

“Thanks. I’m gonna…yeah,” he replies weakly and heads off toward his room, keeping the laundry over his more-than-obvious erection.

He locks the door to his room and paces a moment, willing his cock down. Fucking biology, that’s all it’s is, just a natural reaction for an omega to an alpha in rut. Except he’s smelled an alpha in rut before and it’s never made him this wet or this hard. Why does Castiel have to smell so good, and dear god, why did he say Dean’s name?

He strips out of his clothes to take a shower, jumping into the water before it even warms up. He shivers at the chill but his dick doesn’t seem to care.

He whimpers as he wraps a hand around himself and instantly knows it’s not enough. He feels the slick between his cheeks and he quickly lays down in the tub, water pelting him as he spreads his legs. He sinks two fingers into himself in a harsh, burning push. It’s slick, but the muscles are tight—and god, it feels amazing.

Eyes closed, he imagines Castiel over him, practically smothering him…a dark growl in his throat as he nips at Dean’s ear and his cock runs against his slick cheeks. To feel those hands grasp him and flip him over, blanketing his back as he slides in deep—one quick thrust right to the root. He’d howl out Dean’s name just like he’d heard before, only Dean’s own voice would be there as well, a broken “Castiel!” punched out of him.

He curls his fingers, searching and adding in a third while his other hand whips over his cock, body writhing in the tub. His fingers find that sweet spot, and with only a few hard rubs he feels his orgasm shatter over him like the water from above. He melts into the ground below him, panting and wrecked as a mess of white is slowly getting washed away off his stomach.

He hasn’t jerked off since his heat and hadn’t realized how much he needed to. No way can he go anywhere near the west wing again. His shaky self control would surely break…and then what?

_You’d get fucked hard and fast by the sexiest alpha you’ve ever met, and love every minute of it._

He scowls at the snide, taunting voice in his head. Pulling himself up, he finishes scrubbing himself down and puts on fresh clothes with plenty of blocker spray.

Carefully venturing out into the house again, he heads toward the kitchen where he finds Ellen sorting through several grocery bags. Thankfully she lets Dean help put things away—if he promises to follow her organization method to the letter.

It keeps him busy till his phone buzzes in his pocket and he sees Sam calling.

“Hey, Sammy.” He smiles, ‘cause Sam isn’t here to see how happy he is that he called.

“Dean, I can’t stay here,” Sam huffs out, and Dean can hear a female voice behind him.

“Come on now, it can’t be that bad. I know you miss my gorgeous face and winning charm, but—”

“He’s unbearable, I can’t-I can’t—” Sam's voice cracks a moment and Dean's hackles rise. “He’s worse without you here. All he does is drink and yell and he tore my room apart…it looks like a fucking burglar was here. He found the money you gave me and he took it.” 

Dean holds the phone away from himself. “Sonovabitch!” he growls before speaking to Sam again. “Where are you?”

“I’m at Madison’s.” Dean hears a very aggravated voice asking for the phone and then a scuffling sound. 

“Dean?” Madison’s voice comes on and he hears Sams protests in the background. Sam and Madison had been best friends since kindergarten and she feels like the little sister he never had. “What Sam isn’t saying is that he got suspended today, BUT it’s not his fault, okay!”

“Jesus fucking christ.” He rubs at his eyes.

 _“_ My ex was messing with me and he grabbed my arm, and Sam was just standing up for me, but he has a mean right hook.” Madison chuckles fondly. “Broke the guy’s nose.”

“Is my idiotic, heroic brother okay?” Dean asks, unsure if he’s more proud or pissed.

“Yeah, he has a black eye and sore hand, but he’s fine,” she replies, and the tone of her voice calms some of his nerves.

Sam snatches the phone back. “Dean, can I come stay with you for a little?” His voice is small, and he knows Sam wouldn’t ask if he didn’t feel trapped.

“Look, my boss is kinda outta commission at the moment…but as soon as I see him, I’ll ask, okay? Can you stay with Madison till I talk to him?”

“Yeah, I can stay for a few days. Thanks Dean, I uh… I do miss you.”

Dean ignores the ache in his chest that causes.

“Miss you too, bitch.”

“Bye, jerk.”

Dean stuffs the phone into his pocket and prays that Cas is willing to let Sam stay. Otherwise he has no idea what he’s going to do.

***

April finally leaves on Friday morning, and Castiel is glad to see her go. There’s a reason ruts and heats are ideal to go through with a mate—there are few people Castiel could spend endless days with and not eventually grow tired of. When April began to complain about the restaurant where she normally works, cataloging every type of pie on their menu and how she doesn’t even like pie, Castiel knew it was time to say goodbye.

There is someone who does like pie, though—at least, that’s what Ellen mentioned a few days ago. _Boy has a healthy appetite, that’s for sure._ Castiel sighs wistfully, thinking of Dean. He hasn’t seen Dean in several days, not since he pinned him to the wall in his office. He’s still terribly embarrassed by that development, though if his note from yesterday is any indication, Dean has forgiven him easily enough. Castiel’s not sure he’s earned that forgiveness yet… He would never hurt Dean, not intentionally, but he’s certainly an alpha—and alphas have their weaknesses. It seems Cas’ weakness is in the form of a sandy-haired, six-foot-tall, green-eyed omega. 

_No, no, no._ That can’t happen, not after everything he’s seen, everything his family went through. There’s a reason he doesn’t have sex with omegas, a reason he refuses to take a mate. His attraction to Dean is purely physical, biological, that’s it. He must be too much of a hermit to realize that he’s lonely, and Dean has just reminded him that he is very, very single. 

Castiel sighs, stretching with some effort. His body hurts all over and his bedroom is still wrecked. He just had to text Missouri about the extreme mess this rut has produced, and he wishes he could say she’s seen worse, but… This was by far the fiercest rut he’s ever had. Surely that can’t all be from Dean’s presence. Part of it is probably his age, and how his inner alpha is begging him to breed a beautiful omega, to settle down, to mate. 

With that terrifying thought in mind, Castiel is reaching for his cell phone before he’s even sure about this decision. But he needs to do something to change their circumstances, or he’s going to end up making a terrible mistake. 

When Gabriel picks up on the second ring, the only way through is forward. 

Gabriel yawns, the background noise static as he mumbles out a sleepily, “Hello?”

“Good morning, Gabriel,” Castiel greets. He throws open his closet door, searching for a fresh button-up and tie. He’s already wearing his slacks, belt, socks, and undershirt. “Still sleeping at this hour?”

“This hour? It’s seven o’clock, you lunatic,” Gabriel grumbles. “Did you forget that I run a _casino_? You know, late hours? Sleeping in all day?”

Castiel winces, drawing a blue button-up from his closet and searching for the matching tie. “Apologies, it slipped my mind.”

“Yeah, well…” Gabriel pulls the phone away and Castiel can hear a woman’s voice in the background. 

“You have company?” Castiel asks lightly, trying to keep the judgment from his voice. He knows that his brother keeps a revolving door of occupants in and out of his bed. Gabriel himself is a beta, but he doesn’t discriminate—alpha, beta, omega. _Everything and everyone wets my whistle_ , Gabriel had once told him.

The phone shuffles with noise, like Gabriel is walking into another room, and then he says, “Don’t I always?”

Castiel can practically see his brother smirk, and he shakes his head ruefully. “You never change, do you?”

“Nope. Neither do you, Cassie,” Gabriel says, sounding a bit more awake now. “So, what can I do for one of the richest alphas in America, huh? I’m guessing you didn’t call just to swap warm and fuzzies.”

“Well…” Castiel slips his shirt off the hanger and begins slipping into the sleeves. “Speaking of change, I’ve changed my mind on something and I need your help.”

“Seriously?” The sound of a refrigerator door shutting is palpable on the other line. “I better go to the window…”

Castiel wrinkles his eyebrows. “Why?”

“To see if pigs are flying.”

Castiel rolls his eyes and chuckles. “It’s nothing to get excited about. I’ve just decided it might be time to start dating, and I know you had a few suggestions right here in Kansas City…” He trails off, feeling immensely foolish. He should just go to a bar himself, or get on a dating app, but the prospect of meeting someone already Novak-approved sounds ideal. Anything, really, to keep himself busy and keep his mind off Dean. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Gabriel says, his grin coming through the line crystal clear. “What brought this on? Got tired of fucking hired help during your ruts?”

This guess hits a little too close to home, especially considering how he just finished his rut in that exact fashion—not to mention, how hard he’s resisting his attraction to Dean. Castiel feels defensive, buttoning his shirt hastily now. “Nevermind, Gabriel, I’ll just do this myself.”

“Okay, okay, sorry. I can see I’ve touched a nerve,” Gabriel huffs. “I haven’t had my coffee yet, baby bro. You know I’m an asshole before the caffeine hits.”

Castiel buttons his cuffs and searches for his dress shoes. He knows Gabriel means well—he always does. He’s certainly not his worst sibling, not by a landslide. So he sighs and says, “I hardly call that sugar concoction you drink _coffee_.”

“Hey, if it doesn’t have three creams and four sugars, get that shit away from me.” Gabriel chuckles softly, clearing his throat. “So, matchmaking…yep, I got some prospects for you. There’s this sweet little omega chick—”

“No,” Castiel says sharply, stopping dead in his tracks. He takes a gulp of air, trying to center himself. “You know I don’t…”

“Still?” Gabriel’s voice is sadder now, quieter. “Cas, it’s been ten years.”

“I know how long it’s been.” Castiel bends over on the broken bed, slipping his dress shoes on. “I don’t need to remind you why I’m hesitant, do I?”

Gabriel sucks in a breath. “No, but if we could just talk about—”

“You’re a beta, Gabriel. Even if we talk about it, you don’t understand the risks. You’ll never have to…” _Have to risk your life for love._ “Please, no omegas. That’s all.”

There’s a beat of tense silence where Castiel thinks his brother might push the issue. At times, he makes the argument that their brother Lucifer is also an alpha with their shared history who has no problem being with omegas. But Lucifer is a terrible example of self-restraint—a terrible person in general, if Cas is being honest. Though the eldest Novak brother lives in Kansas as well, Castiel sees Gabriel much more often. 

Gabriel blows air through the receiver and says, “There’s a beta I know—a guy who works downtown. He did some marketing for the casino once. His name is Inias, and I showed him your picture a few years ago—he visited the offices in Nevada—and he basically drooled all over you.”

Castiel chuckles nervously as he sprays on his blockers, imagining what others see in him that would cause such a reaction. Sure, he’s wealthy and an alpha, but he’s also awkward and quiet and doesn’t know a shred of pop culture references. He considers himself to be utterly average, boring even. “That sounds…uncomfortable.”

Gabriel laughs. “Yeah, yeah, it’s tough being a rich and handsome alpha, I know. Blah blah.” Before Castiel can interject, he continues. “I’ll reach out to him. If he’s still interested, I’ll give him your number. Sound good?”

Castiel creaks his bedroom door open, looking at the landing of the west wing. Everything is still in horrible disarray and he frowns. Instead of having memories of his time with April, all he can think about are the echoes of Dean’s name on his lips—the strangled voice he made while coming, the image of Dean burning bright in his head. He wants Dean. Even after his rut is finished, the desire hasn’t faded. Thank god Dean will never, ever know the extent of Castiel’s pull to the omega. Castiel has to do this—has to give himself a different outlet—or Dean will never have the safe workplace he was promised. 

“Sounds good,” Castiel says, not meaning it. It seems to pacify Gabriel, though, and they chat for a few more minutes until Castiel heads downstairs. He skips breakfast, eager to bury his head in his work. Taking several days of unplanned time off is never good for his clients, and when he checks his inbox, he has two hundred emails and six calls scheduled for today. It’s going to be a very long and tedious day. 

He’s on the phone when Dean knocks on his door thirty minutes later. The omega stands in the doorway tentatively, the suit he’s wearing slightly baggy around the shoulders, but his grin is practically a thousand watt. Castiel smiles back but points at the phone, frowning, and Dean matches him with an exaggerated grimace. He mouths, _you eat?_ And Castiel shakes his head, pointing to the phone again for extra measure. Dean holds up his finger in the “give me a minute” gesture, and when he comes back fifteen minutes later, Castiel is finally off the phone. 

“Hello, Dean,” he greets lightly, standing up behind the desk, though he doesn’t know why. What exactly did he plan to do—hug Dean? Shake his hand? 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says, dropping a plate with a fresh-made breakfast sandwich in one hand, Castiel’s favorite coffee mug filled to the brim in the other. 

“Oh, this looks wonderful,” Castiel says genuinely, and Dean stands nearby and smiles, looking pleased with himself. He lets Castiel eat his breakfast and drink his coffee in peace, leaving Cas’ office to hunch over his own computer and check his to-do list. Castiel’s mood has improved greatly, largely thanks to the meal and the company, and he sighs contentedly. The way his desk is angled to the doorway when the door’s open, he has a perfect view of Dean’s face and the back of his computer monitor.

“Thank you, Dean,” he calls out. “I’m not sure how I kept myself fed before you came on.”

Dean’s eyes are gleaming as he smiles. “Well, don’t let Ellen catch ya saying that.”

Castiel nods agreeably. “Wise advice.”

A moment passes between them when they’re both still staring, but not speaking. Dean has eyes that he could fall right into, so vivid and mesmerizing. 

“So, uh…” Dean scratches the back of his neck. Castiel notices that Dean is wearing a tie today—likely in response to Adler’s rude comment from earlier this week—but the tie is sloppy and haphazard. Rather than looking unprofessional, Castiel finds it endearing. “Rut go okay?”

Castiel stalls with an extra long sip of his coffee. “I suppose so. It’s never pleasant, and this was one of the worst I’ve ever had.”

Dean’s eyebrows raise, looking surprised. “Yeah? Sure you’re feeling good enough for work?”

The concern is touching, but Castiel tries to block it out and move onto safer topics. “Yes, I’m quite well. What were you up to this week?”

Dean summarizes his mornings organizing files for Missouri, his afternoons with Jo or Joshua or Charlie. 

“Missouri told me to reschedule all your missed calls for today,” Dean says slowly, “but I figured that would be too much for one day, so I postponed the non-urgent ones until Monday. Is…that okay?”

Castiel lets out a huff or relief. “Honestly, that’s a welcome idea. I was feeling overwhelmed with the prospect of hitting the ground running today.”

Dean nods, looking grateful that he made the right decision. “Still sore today, huh?”

Castiel shifts around in his chair, keeping his hands busy by searching for his memo pad. “Indeed. The whole process is very taxing.”

Dean opens his mouth but then closes it, giving Cas a weak smile as his gaze returns to his computer. Castiel has no idea what the omega planned to say, but he seems to have a light blush on his cheeks. For a fleeting moment he wonders if Dean knows that he starred in every one of Castiel’s rut-related daydreams, but he shakes the thought off immediately. There’s no way—Dean wasn’t anywhere near the west wing. Being around someone he’s so attracted to has obviously made him on-edge and paranoid.

The morning proceeds like most mornings do, though around ten o’clock Missouri recruits Dean in the staff effort to clean up the west wing from Castiel’s rut. Castiel opens his mouth to argue against it, but he can’t think of any valid reason—Dean once said Castiel’s scent smelled “really good” but that didn’t mean he would be affected by it all. Surely not. So he waved them on and buried himself in paperwork.

An hour later, Dean returns and he’s red-faced, looking slightly sweaty. He drapes his suit jacket off the back of his chair and loosens his tie, running a hand through his hair and squeezing. Castiel is so distracted by his disheveled appearance that he reads the same financial statement three times. 

Dean breaks the tension when he comes into Cas’ office and asks in a rough whisper, “I’m, uh, supposed to ask you if you want the same kind of bed frame ordered or…” He swallows visibly and finishes in a shaky voice, “Something sturdier.”

“Oh,” Castiel says quietly, burying his face in his hands. “Well, it might be a good idea to view other options. Would you mind gathering me a list?”

Dean doesn’t speak then, just nods, his eyes slightly glazed over as he leans closer to his computer. He excuses himself a moment later to “hit the head” and takes a longer break than Castiel expected, but when he returns he seems less flushed and more focused. By the afternoon, he’s sent Castiel a list of ten options and puts an asterisk next to his favorite. 

“That’s my favorite, too,” Castiel tells him, and it should be a simple conversation, but everything with Dean seems to have layers of subtext surrounding it. Castiel tells himself that ordering that particular bed has nothing to do with Dean—or pleasing him, or wanting him to find Castiel’s bed favorable. But as he slides Dean his credit card and sits back down at his office chair, he struggles to smother the smile on his face. They’re well-matched in many ways, it seems, and it makes Castiel’s chest ache. 

Around five o’clock, many things happen at once. Dean is closing down his computer, the doorbell rings, and Castiel sees a text message appear on his phone screen. He blinks, rubbing his eyes, and reads:

 **Unknown number 5:03 PM >>** Hi Castiel, this is Inias. Gabriel’s friend? He mentioned that you might be free for dinner sometime soon. I’d love to meet you. 

Castiel frowns, swallowing down the innate feeling of _wrong_ and begins to reply.

“Bad news?” Dean asks conversationally through the doorway, slinging his suit jacket into the crook of his arm. Castiel gapes like a fish for a moment, phone still in-hand, wondering how this man can read him so easily. 

“No, no…nothing worth mentioning,” he replies evenly, and Dean nods, seeming to accept that answer. 

The omega opens his mouth, says, “So I, uh…Cas? I have a question. A favor, even.”

Castiel is about to reply when Missouri appears around the corner. She stands there but seems to be pushing someone else back, announcing in a rush, “Dean, you have a—”

“Dean!” shouts a boy’s voice. He pushes himself through the small crowd, and the next thing Castiel sees, a skinny teenage boy with long hair engulfs Dean in a hug. He has a noticeable black eye, he’s much too skinny, and there’s a threadbare duffel bag slung over his shoulder. 

_Sam Winchester._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor, sweet little idiot boys…crushing so hard already. 
> 
> Come chat with us in the comments!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evening loves!! TCBaby here—and actually on the phone with CB right this very second, haha. She's walking her dog and I am snug as a bug in a rug on my couch, and we've spent the better part of an hour chatting and BRAINSTORMING for this lovely story of ours. We love you guys, we love our idiot boys, and we can't wait to show you all where this story is going.
> 
> Speaking of, this chapter, y'all… It just sorta grew with every passing day. It's somewhere in the ballpark of 8-9,000 words at this point, which is bonkers, but breaking it into two chapters just felt wrong. So here you are, a long-as-fuck chapter just because you guys are the best. :)

“Sammy,” Dean huffs as he wraps his hands around his little brother. He pulls Sam back to look at him and takes in the shiner on his eye, yellowing and turning all kinds of colors. He pokes at it and twists his head as Sam bats his hand away.

“I’m fine, Dean. I promise.” Sam smiles at him with a look of relief.

“What the hell are you doing here? I told you I would call.” Dean frowns at Sam, looking over at his boss who is simply standing with his arms crossed, watching the two of them. He doesn’t look pissed but…more curious, maybe. 

“Madison’s mom kicked me out and I didn’t want to go back to our house, and Bobby is out of town…so where was I supposed to go?” Sam throws his hands in the air. The kid always could be dramatic.

“Dude, you could’ve called me.” Dean runs his fingers through his hair.

“You weren’t answering your phone. I _did_ call you,” Sam huffs, giving his best bitchface. Dean pulls out his phone that he’s had silenced and sees the missed calls.

“Well, fuck,” he sighs, stuffing the phone back in his pocket.

Castiel clears his throat and Dean’s eyes jerk up to meet his. 

“Would you like to introduce me?”

Dean blinks up at Cas a moment before answering, “Uh, Sam, this is my boss, Castiel. Cas, this is my brother, Sam.” Dean waves a hand between them as Sam eyes Castiel warily before offering his hand.

Castiel smiles and shakes his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Sam.”

Sam nods, looking skeptically at Cas—and Dean doesn’t blame him. He is the alpha that bought Dean’s contract, even if it was of the white collar variety.

“Sounds like Sam might be staying with us awhile?” Castiel asks, and looks between the two Winchesters.

“Well uh, I was gonna ask you this morning, but you were so busy and I didn’t want—”

Castiel raises a hand to cut him off, “Dean it’s perfectly fine, he may stay.”

Dean can’t believe Cas will really just let Sam stay like this. “Are you sure it won’t be too much trouble?” 

“I told you when you signed the contract that your brother was welcome here. Though you did not provide notice he was coming and that does break the house rules.” Castiel gives him a stern look that makes Dean’s stomach turn to jello. “Seeing as you were simply trying not to interrupt while helping me get set up this morning, I can hardly fault you for it.”

“Thank you, sir,” Dean says in a smaller voice than he intended.

“Thanks, Mister Novak,” Sam adds, looking a little more at ease as he hikes his bag up on his shoulder.

“You are most welcome, Sam.” Castiel is speaking to Sam but hasn’t taken his eyes off Dean. Dean looks into those blue eyes, trying to figure them out. Why he’d be so nice to Dean, _again_ , is beyond him. Castiel just keeps jumping in and surprising him, having done so since the moment he met the man.

“Missouri, do you know when Ellen is planning to have dinner ready?” Castiel asks, moving behind his desk and clicking closed a few items on his desktop.

“She said in about another hour or so. Want me to tell her to set an extra place?” Missouri’s eyes hold that knowing twinkle to them as she grins at her boss.

Castiel glances up at her with a warning look that Dean can’t read. “Yes, I’d like to have dinner in the dining room tonight. Whoever is around and willing, of course. I want to catch up with everyone since my days off.” Cas glances over at Dean and then at Sam again. “Plus, we can introduce our latest addition.”

Dean swallows hard, his stomach twisting a bit at the idea of dinner with Castiel. Which is utterly ridiculous, since everyone in the house will be there too.

“I’ll see to it. See you at dinner, boys.” She smiles warmly at them before heading down the hall.

“Dean, if you want to show Sam around before dinner, you’re free to,” Castiel adds.

“Really! That would be awesome.” Sam smiles big and bright and Dean can’t help but smile a little, too. Sam’s one of the toughest people Dean knows, but he can see the relief in his brother’s eyes at being there. Dean wonders just how bad it’s been at home since he left.

“Come on, Sammy, I’ll give you the grand tour.” Dean chuckles lightly, pulling his brother into a headlock and scruffing up his hair.

“Hey, let me go you jerk!” Sam squawks until Dean finally relents, letting him go.

He looks up to see Castiel smiling at them with a fond look on his face. Dean feels his cheeks heat a little and he ducks his head.

“Sam, make sure he shows you the library. I assume you will have homework to do while you’re staying here?” Castiel adds, looking at the backpack Sam has slung over his duffle.

“Um, library?” Dean is pretty sure he hasn’t seen a library, but then again, this place is fucking huge.

“Didn’t Missouri tell you where it was? I can show you now…I mean, if you’re interested,” Castiel finishes a little awkwardly. Dean has no idea why he looks nervous, but it’s kinda adorable. Not that he finds Cas adorable, not in the least.

“That would be really great!” Sam chimes in before Dean can respond.

“Sure, yeah, that would be cool.” Dean stuffs his hands in his pockets and follows after Castiel as they head down the hall. 

They head almost back toward the suites before heading down toward the north wing, and Castiel swings open two large oak french doors. The room is huge, with tall, vaulted ceilings and windows that stretch all the way to the top. Dean steps inside and he can’t help but gape at all the books—built in shelves that tower up over his head. The shelves go so high there’s even one of those rolling ladders he’s only ever seen in the movies. There are large, soft arm chairs by the windows that look out onto the back garden, and a sturdy table with four chairs around it on the other end.

“Holy shit,” Sam says under his breath, and Dean wants to laugh at the look of joy on Sam’s face. “There's a fireplace!”

Dean looks to where Sam is pointing at a long couch sitting in front of an old gothic-looking fireplace. His brother drops his bags in a heap and runs to the closest shelves, long fingers dancing over the bindings.

“Now you’ve gone and done it,” Dean says to Cas conspiratorially. “Now he’s never gonna leave.”

“Good thing he doesn’t have to,” Castiel replies, leaning in a little closer to Dean. He looks at the man a moment, wondering if that’s really true. Would he really let Sam stay—and what would that end up costing Dean? He isn’t sure if he’ll have to pay for Sam’s room and board, since it wasn’t in the contract. Maybe he can work it off somehow on the weekend if Sam really does end up staying. He decides he better talk to Sam before he brings it up with Castiel.

“This really is an amazing room. I’ve never seen so many books…except at the library in Lawrence or my school.” He wanders a little away from his brother, glancing up at all the titles.

“A vast majority of these came from my uncle Marv. He was a book collector.”

“Were you guys close?” Dean asks as he skims over everything from science to science fiction to romance to war novels, feeling Castiel following behind him.

“Not very, no. I hardly knew him. He left his collection to my father when he passed away. Every so often I find a book with his notes in the margins. I can barely read his handwriting, though Kevin was able to make some of it out for me once.” Castiel’s voice is tinged with aching. It makes something twist in Dean’s chest with the urge to fix it.

“Did he have any of his own kids to leave it to?” Dean asks, stealing a glance over his shoulder to see Castiel looking up at the books himself.

“No, he was a bachelor…bit of a recluse. Still seems like a sad way to go,” Castiel replies softly, almost to himself.

“I’m sorry,” Dean adds, unsure of what to say.

Castiel turns his blue eyes back to Dean, and they soften into a smile when they land on his face. “Don’t be. I hardly knew him.” Castiel shrugs it off. “Do you have a favorite author?”

“Oh, uh, I guess Vonnegut. I always liked _Slaughterhouse-Five_.” In fact, he still has his copy of it stashed in his duffle bag.

“One of my favorites, too,” Castiel whispers to him, leaning in…and Dean can feel his hot breath on the nape of his neck. His whole body shivers at just how close Castiel is. He can practically feel all that strength and heat behind him, and yet he feels a strange sense of being safe.

Castiel reaches up and over Dean’s shoulder, and he can’t help but watch as those long fingers pull at a book until it slips from the shelf and into his hand. Bringing it down, he holds it out to Dean. “You may like this one. It’s a bit of a worn copy, though.”

Dean looks down, taking the proffered book and smiling. “ _Lord of the Rings_? You know, I must’ve read _The Hobbit_ with Sam a hundred times but I never actually read the rest of the series.” He runs a hand over the soft worn cover, and he can tell how much this book has been loved.

“Well, I hope you like it. And you’re free to read any of the books in here that you’d like,” Castiel adds.

Dean’s really not used to someone being so nice to him, especially not an alpha like Cas. “You’re too nice, you know that?” He almost laughs, turning a smile up at the man he simply can’t help.

“Letting you borrow a book is hardly an imposition,” Castiel says, stuffing his hands into his pocket while Dean holds the book to his chest.

“Thanks Cas…for everything,” he says, a bit quieter under his breath. He watches as the alpha practically puffs his chest out with pride at Dean’s words, but he only nods. They stare for a moment, and god, he’d almost forgotten over the past few days how striking Cas’ face is. He wonders idly what his lips would taste like, and better yet, how those teeth would feel pressing into his neck.

“Dean! Look at this, there’s so many true crime novels,” Sam calls out from the other side of the room, making Dean jump a little. Cas takes a step back, looking down at his shoes, and it feels like the moment’s been broken. He really needs to get a handle on himself and stop swooning all over his boss—the alpha who doesn’t even like omegas. He feels a sudden twinge of hate for his own gender, leaving a sour feeling in his gut.

“Come on, nerd. Lets get your bags put away before dinner,” he calls back his brother, who puts on a bit of pout but goes to grab his bags.

“You really don’t mind if I do homework in here?” Sam asks Castiel as they head out of the library.

“Not at all. You’re more than welcome to use the space.” Castiel smiles at him. “See you both at dinner.” Castiel sweeps off toward the west wing, and Dean watches him go—feeling the tug in his chest to follow him. He _really_ needs to get control of himself.

“I can sleep on the floor, Dean. You don’t have to go to any trouble,” Sam says, looking a little nervous, his confident facade fading now that Cas is gone.

Dean smiles at Sam, swinging an arm around his shoulder. “Don’t you fear, little brother. You’re gonna be so freakin’ spoiled here.” Some of the ache in his chest eases seeing how excited his brother is, and knowing that he’s here and safe where he should be. He can’t wait to show Sam how awesome their digs are, and he decides just to focus on that right now and clear his mind of unavailable, uninterested alphas.

Not thinking about Castiel is easier said than done. Dean had felt pretty in control till he’d gone up to help Missouri clean Castiel's suite. The rut scent had hit him like a freight train. He had felt drunk off it, and all he’d wanted to do was roll around naked in that delicious scent and jerk off as many times as he could.

But a suspicious look from Missouri had snapped him out of his haze, and he just tried to breathe through his mouth while they cleaned. He’d just gotten his boner under control when Castiel told him to order a sturdier bed, because apparently the alpha fucks so hard he broke the last one. Just the image of that had driven Dean to run to his room and rub one out. He was glad he had the presence of mind to clean his bathroom quick after, seeing as he was leading Sammy to the suite now.

He fishes his key out of his pocket before letting Sam in. He watches as Sam drops his bags and stares at the clean and bright living space. His brother’s eyes rove over everything slowly, taking in the kitchenette and the living room and walking back toward the bedrooms.

“I took the one on the left, but you can have the room on the right.” Dean gestures as Sam flips on the light and peers into the spare room.

“Dean,” Sam says in barely a whisper, looking at the soft and freshly made bed and the small desk by the window. “I get my own room?” he asks, turning to look at Dean with wide eyes.

“Pretty sweet, huh?” Dean can’t help but smile, puffing up with pride. He gave this to Sam. Well, Castiel did, but Dean is earning their way. Seeing the look on Sam’s face makes him feel like he might have really done something right.

“This is…this is…a lot.” Sam flops on the bed, bouncing a bit as he feels the soft mattress below him. “Too good to be true,” he mumbles a bit to himself, his hair falling his face.

Dean frowns, walking over to his brother and sitting on the bed next to him. He bounces up and down a bit till it jostles Sam, making him smile and shove at Dean—telling him to knock it off. It has the desired effect of making Sam loosen up though.

“So, you wanna tell me about this?” Dean asks, pointing at Sam’s cheek and the colorful bruise there.

“He was an asshole alpha—you know the type. Thought he was tough shit. Mads had only seen the guy a few times but he wouldn’t leave her alone, and when I told him to take a hike, things just…ya know, escalated.” Sam looks at Dean, and honestly, Dean did know. Winchesters didn’t start many fights but they could finish them. Dean knows logically that him being home wouldn’t have changed anything—that he couldn’t have been at Sam’s school—but he still feels a twinge of failure somehow. He is supposed to protect Sam…that’s his job, and he wasn’t there to do it.

“Do you think your boss will really let me stay here?” Sam sounds nervous now. 

“Don’t worry about that, okay? I’ll handle it.” But now that he finally has his brother alone, Dean needs to get to the bottom of just why he’s here. “But you gotta be straight with me, man. What happened with you and Dad?”

He can feel Sam tense next to him, body defensive and rigid. It takes all his self-control to just sit and wait for his brother to answer. He can practically see the gears turning in that big egg head of his. He has no doubt Sam is debating exactly what story to tell Dean. _What lie._ Eventually, he just can’t take the silence anymore. 

“The truth, asshat,” Dean says, scuffing the top of Sam’s head and earning him a scowl.

“Geez, Dean,” Sam mutters, fixing his mop of hair. “Fine. He started just drinking more than normal, you know? Getting home from down the street at two in the morning, crashing into shit and whatever, but I didn’t pay much attention. I kinda figured he just missed you or maybe he was feeling guilty, which he fucking should.” Sam doesn’t look at Dean, playing with the buttons on his shirt instead. “He brought by those friends of his to the house, though. You know, Gordon and Kubrick.”

Dean’s blood runs a little cold at the names. Gordon had been an old card buddy of John’s for a while and works at a garage a town over. Dean had liked Gordon well enough growing up—he was always showing Dean things about old muscle cars and how to shuffle cards. Until Dean had presented, that is. Next time Gordon had showed up he’d tried to corner Dean in the bathroom, telling him what a pretty omega he was and he had a new trick to show him. John had shown up and hauled Gordon out by his shirt collar, tossing his ass out. He hadn’t seen him since and John didn’t bring him by after that. It never occurred to him that his dad was still drinking buddies with the guy.

“I don’t like that guy, Gordon. He’s a dick,” Sam huffs, sounding annoyed. “The second night he brought him over, though, is when I’d found Dad took all my money. I went to confront him on it, ask where it was ‘cause it wasn’t his to take, Dean.” Sam’s eyes narrow now, hands tightening on his shirt. There’s bottled-up rage, barely controlled within the kid—but Dean knows it’s just a front to cover the fact that he’s scared.

“What happened, Sammy?” Dean urges him on before the kid clams up again.

“He told me it was his house and his money. Then Gordon jumped in, telling me I should be grateful that my dad puts a roof over my head. That I better show Dad more respect, cause if I present omega my dad might just sell me off like he did you. Spouting shit about you, and…I took a swing at him.” Sam shrugs, looking nervously over at Dean and back down at his shirt.

“That son of a bitch! Did he touch you?” Dean can’t help but growl, shooting up off the bed. He feels the anger rolling over him, ‘cause he knows an alpha like Gordon isn’t gonna take a hit without giving one back.

“He was gonna, but I kinda bolted. Dad was hollering at me and yanking me back, and Gordon’s eyes just went all…I dunno, feral. They both just stunk of alcohol and angry alpha and I pulled out of Dad’s grip and ran for my room. I locked the door and snuck out the window. Didn’t stop running till I got to Madison’s.”

Dean feels relief wash over him, knowing Sam got himself out of there. He’s itching to grab his keys, drive down to his house, and beat the piss out of his father and that asshole Gordon, too. He knew Sam would probably have to fend for himself when he left, that John couldn’t be relied upon to keep food in the house or look after Sam. He’d hoped that he wouldn’t be an active threat, though…but he’d been so wrong. This is all his fault.

“Sammy, can you forgive me, man?” Dean says, turning to look at his brother.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Dean. You’re not to blame.” Sam shakes his head in denial.

“No, I never should have left you there.” Dean can’t believe how stupid he was.

“You couldn’t have known, and this is exactly why I didn’t wanna tell you. You’d go off blaming yourself for the fact that our dad is just a mean old drunk. He cares more about mourning a ghost than his own two sons,” Sam grits out, and Dean looks into his brother’s eyes, seeing the glassy look there. It’s the only chink in Sam’s armor.

“I should have been there,” Dean repeats. Just imagining Gordon coming after his brother still makes his blood boil.

“I’m okay, Dean. I handled myself just like you taught me. I’m okay…see?” Sam holds out his arms, wide and spinning in a circle. “No harm, no foul.”

Dean grits his teeth, drawing in a deep, shaky breath. “You’re not going back there, Sam.” His brother nods, blinking his eyes and standing up tall. Dean can see the brave face his brother is putting on, and he isn’t sure if he should feel proud or sad. “Don’t know how we’re gonna figure out school, though. You have a few more weeks left and you can’t drive yourself yet.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure what to do about that.” Sam shrugs, flopping back down on the bed with Dean settling beside him. 

“Well, you can’t stop going to school, but I don’t know how I could drive you there every morning. Fuck.” Dean rubs at his face feeling suddenly tired, and much older than his twenty years. Sam looks at him a little worried now, and worrying Sam is the last thing he wants to do. “Look…I’ll talk to Castiel, okay? He’s a pretty decent guy, maybe he can help us think of something.”

Sam smiles at that. “You think? He does seem pretty cool—for an alpha, anyway.” Sam looks at Dean like he’s studying him for a moment, making him want to squirm.

“Yeah, he’s decent, Sammy. I think we can trust him. You just let me handle it, okay? And why don’t you go take a shower before dinner—’cause you reek, man,” Dean teases, pushing at his brothers shoulder.

“Yeah, a shower sounds nice actually.” Sam goes and grabs his duffle as Dean shows him the bathroom. Before he ducks out to give Sam privacy, he stops Dean with a hand on his arm. “Thanks, Dean, for everything.”

Dean feels his cheeks heat. He’s never been very good at sharing this much emotion, even with Sammy. He just pats his hand and tries to fight down the urge to grab a drink of whiskey to take the edge off. They share a silent look before Sam lets go and closes the bathroom door. Now Dean has to figure out how to ask his brand-new boss—of just a week—if his brother can stay permanently…and oh yeah, if he can help get his brother to his high school nearly forty minutes away every day. No big deal. How could he possibly say no?

***

The first thing Castiel notices is the candle light. It’s soft and yellow, the result of tall, flickering candlesticks. He’s one of the last to enter the dining room, having sprinted back to his office to finish a round of last-minute emails. He’s met by a chatty room that quiets the moment he enters, and smiles at Charlie and Jo helping themselves to a bottle of red wine, at Kevin and Missouri hunched over the table, still discussing spreadsheets with an impressive amount of passion. But the view that takes all of Castiel’s attention away is Dean, eyes gleaming green in the room’s muted glow, skin practically glowing. He’s laughing at something his brother just said, Sam needling him in the ribs. As a hush falls over the room Dean glances up, meeting Castiel’s gaze with a warm familiarness that nearly makes the alpha stumble. It’s the sort of friendly, conspiratorial gaze one gives a close friend, or a family member, or a…

 _Lover_ , Castiel’s mind supplies unhelpfully. 

“Good evening, everyone,” he greets, forcing himself to look away from Dean as he takes his customary seat at the head of the table. To his disappointment, Dean is seated nearly on the opposite end. Not that it matters, of course—being flanked by Charlie on one side, and Missouri on the other, is immensely pleasant.

“Hey, boss,” Charlie says with a grin, hand fluffing her bangs absently. “So, you gonna introduce the new kid?”

Castiel meets eyes briefly with Dean before deciding. “I’d love to, though I don’t believe it’s my introduction to make. Dean?”

Dean gives Castiel a small, grateful smile before addressing the table. “Yeah, uh, this is my little brother Sam. He’s fifteen, about to finish up his sophomore year. He rudely showed up uninvited, but I figured I’d keep ‘im around anyways.”

“Hey!” Sam protests, tucking a long strand of hair behind his ear. 

“Don’t let him bother you, baby,” Missouri says pleasantly, her eyes gleaming with a nurturing sort of protectiveness that Castiel is familiar with by now. “Your brother’s glad to have you here.”

“Are you kidding? He never stops talking about you,” Jo says with a snort.

“Yeah, apparently you’re a genius,” Kevin says, grinning toothily, “though I’ll be the judge of that.”

“As if,” Charlie says with en eyeroll. “You might know a few fancy tricks, but you couldn’t even hack your way out of a binary encryption code, Kev.”

They all continue chatting and bantering until the adults have been poured generous glasses of red wine. A moment later, Jo heads for the kitchen and returns with Ellen in tow, family-sized bowls of an impressively tossed salad arranged on a tray. The Harvelles sit down after Castiel’s urging that everyone can serve themselves just fine. As Castiel digs into his salad, he can’t remember the last time he was served dinner at the dining room. He’s taken to sneaking meals at odd times in the kitchen, usually so absorbed with his work that his stomach gets ignored. Friday nights are generally his most lonely—much of the staff takes off on weekend evenings, having significantly better things to do than keep a grumpy, workaholic alpha company. But this Friday, quite miraculously, nearly everyone was still milling around inside the manor when he decides to have a proper dinner for Sam. He’s not sure why he decided to do this—it’s a bit out of character for him—but something about Sam’s frantic arrival and black eye makes Castiel wonder if the young man is in trouble. 

Dean Winchester has only been in his life for one week, but already, it seems everything is changing. It could be a coincidence, but something in his gut tells Castiel that everything good happening in his life involves the omega in some way. He’s resistant to change with anyone else—he disapproved when his old assistant, Becky, adjusted her email signature—but there’s something about Dean’s earnestness, his innate charm, that softens the alpha considerably. 

“That’s not decorative, you know,” Ellen grumbles at the other end of the table, staring at Dean’s untouched salad. Castiel blinks back into the conversation, trying not to let his thoughts run away with him. 

Dean shrugs, tipping his wine back. “No offense, Ellen, but I got a strong anti-greens policy.”

“He’s a lost cause,” Sam agrees with a frown, half of his salad already missing from his plate. 

“That’s a shame, Dean. There are powerful antioxidants in leafy greens, including the carotenes that compose vitamin A—which I’m sure you know are phytonutrients genetically low in omegas,” Castiel rattles off casual, swirling his wine glass around. Dean gapes at him a little, looking thoroughly surprised. 

“Uh, nope, musta skipped science class that day,” he mumbles offhandedly. “I have low… _what_ now?”

Castiel smiles, feeling emboldened when he says, “Just eat your salad and you won’t have to worry about it.” He barely resists adding _omega_ to the end of the sentence, and buries the urge with a particularly long sip of wine. Dean rolls his eyes goodnaturedly and looks unconvinced, but a few moments later Castiel spots him chewing a tentative mouthful. He’s grimacing from the taste, but his brother looks floored that Dean’s even choking back arugula, so that’s a start. Castiel feels content, watching the omega take proper care of himself. There are so many things Castiel would do to make Dean feel healthy and safe and happy, if he could.

“So, how ya feeling?” Charlie asks Castiel casually in a low whisper, drawing him back from his thoughts.

“Huh? Oh…” Castiel blots his mouth on his napkin and says, “Much better.” 

“Sorta surprised you’re upright, to be honest.”

Castiel’s eyebrows knit together, thankful that no one else seems to be paying attention to them. Charlie explains in a breezy voice, “Dude, _that rut_. It was nuts! I’m only a beta, a ladies-only beta at that, but even I couldn’t walk by the west wing without catching a whiff of that. You were putting out some serious ‘down to clown’ vibes.”

“Charlie,” Castiel says incredulously, face heating up with embarrassment. He clears his throat and tries to appear collected, wondering how much the wine has already gone to her head. Charlie is one of the colleagues he always considers a friend, and her tendency to pry into his private life isn’t anything new. 

“Yes, that was indeed a difficult few days,” he answers diplomatically. He grabs his wine glass and raises his voice, addressing everyone during a lull in conversation. “I appreciate you all chipping in and picking up the slack while I was indisposed.”

There are a few general murmurs and nods. 

“Is this the third or fourth time April’s helped you through?” Charlie continues conversationally. Dean’s head snaps up suddenly at that, though Castiel only sees it in his peripheral vision.

“I’m not sure,” Castiel admits, reaching for his glass of ice water. 

“It’s a shame we never get a chance to meet her properly,” Missouri says, arching her eyebrows. “She seems like a real sweetheart.”

At the opposite end of the table, Castiel hears a sarcastic snort. Dean blushes, staring back down at his plate as if that reaction had escaped accidentally. 

“You disagree, sweetie?” Missouri asks politely. 

“She’s fine, I guess,” Dean says noncommittally, suddenly transfixed on his fork. Castiel thinks back to yesterday, when April seemed just as put off by Dean for some reason. 

“Did something happen between you?” Castiel asks him, unable to keep the concern out of his voice. 

Dean drops his fork with a _clank_ and Sam is watching him with an entertained expression, like Dean being nervous is a rare occurrence. In his brother’s experience, perhaps it is—around Sam, Dean seems to always be taking charge, appearing cool and collected despite all the challenges they face. 

“She’s kinda rude… I dunno, Cas, I just get a bad vibe,” Dean says quietly. Castiel wonders if they were alone if maybe Dean would expand on this. He likely should’ve asked him his opinion in private. 

Ellen gets up to fetch the main course, and Missouri changes the subject, setting her gaze back on the youngest Winchester.

“So, Sam, how long will you be staying with us?” Missouri asks warmly. 

The Winchesters exchange an uncomfortable look, and Dean mutters, “Not sure. We haven’t really talked things out with Cas yet.”

Castiel feels eyes travel towards him. “I’m perfectly fine with Sam staying as long as you’d like. Provided that your father…” Castiel pauses, trying to find the most tactful phrasing. He only met John Winchester the one time, but it was a time too many. “Approves?”

“Yeah, he won’t care,” Sam says, almost bitterly. That almost guarantees that John has no idea where Sam is, and maybe Sam is right and he truly doesn’t care. Castiel’s chest aches at the thought. 

“Well, then, stay indefinitely. There’s no rush.” He gives Sam an encouraging smile, but Sam only nods warily. Interesting, Castiel thinks—he’s been friendly with all the other alphas and betas here. Perhaps he’s suspicious of me for buying his brother’s contract?

“Thanks, Cas, but it’s sorta complicated…” Dean takes a deep breath, eyeing the table as if he’s not sure he wants to have this conversation here. Once again Castiel wishes they were alone, but then the omega just shrugs and barrels forward. “Sam has six weeks left of school, and he goes to Lawrence High, which is sorta far away. He doesn’t have his driver’s license yet, and I have no clue how to get him there…” 

Everyone frowns and nods appreciatively, sympathizing with their predicament. 

“Oh, Sam can take Alfie,” Castiel says with a casual wave. Both Dean and Sam look at him with matching confused expressions, so he adds, “My driver. He rarely gets any calls, I’m afraid, since I work from home daily. Knowing him, he’ll be thrilled to drive you to and from school.”

Dean exhales a long breath, eyebrows raised, mouth parted open in a distractingly beautiful fashion. “Man, that would be awesome!” 

Sam looks slightly less impressed, though still grateful, and manages to smile and say, “Cool, thanks Mister Novak.”

The subject seems closed the moment Ellen walks through the doorway, carrying a hefty casserole dish containing a cheesy red lasagna. Castiel spends the rest of dinner overloading on carbs and having a conversation with Jo about beginning the hiring process soon for a new head of security. Castiel used to think that their surveillance cameras and nightly alarm systems were enough, but now that the Winchesters are staying under his roof, a little extra precaution couldn’t hurt. 

After dinner, Castiel attempts to help with cleanup—but nearly everyone on-staff refuses to allow him. 

“Perks of being the boss!” Jo calls over her shoulder, stacking the empty plates and passing them off to Dean. So Castiel wanders back down to his office, passing Dean’s empty desk wistfully, though they’ve just parted at dinner. It’s unsettling how quickly the omega always leaves him wanting more. He fishes his cell phone from his pocket and stares at the text from Inias, stomach twisted in knots before finally replying:

 **Castiel 8:12 PM >>** Hi Inias. Dinner soon sounds great. What did you have in mind? 

He sighs and places his elbows on the desk, wishing he could be in the library discussing books with Dean instead of glued to his inbox. Both the Winchesters had seemed absolutely floored by the room—the shelves, the volumes, the fireplace—and Castiel chuckles, trying to remember the last time he was that giddy about anything. The more life the brothers breathe into his home, the more Castiel realizes how long he’s been running on fumes. 

***

Castiel wakes up the next morning, intent on treating this Saturday more leisurely than usual. It’s true, he still hasn’t quite caught up from his nearly weeklong break due to his rut, and he really should just grab a cup of coffee and barricade himself inside his office. But when he rolls out of bed and peeks behind the curtains, he sees the tulips down in the courtyard are blooming and the sun is shining brightly, promising a gorgeous spring day. So instead of donning his usual suit, he throws on a pair of tight-fitting joggers and laces up his tennis shoes. He spritzes on his blockers as usual—though sweat is known to impact their effectiveness, so hopefully he won’t be stinking up the house after his run. 

He takes the steps two at a time down to the kitchen, humming and pouring himself a cup of coffee. 

“You’re suspiciously chipper,” Ellen comments, a kitchen towel tossed over her shoulder. 

“It’s a beautiful day,” Castiel says evenly, taking a long sip from his mug. “Why are you here?”

Ellen scoffs. “Why, do ya not want me here?”

Castiel shakes his head and says, “Of course I do, but didn’t you request the day off?”

Ellen falters a bit, running her hands under the faucet water. “Well, there’s a shipment coming in from our frozen foods guy—”

“If that’s it, I’ll take care of it,” Castiel interrupts. “Go, enjoy your Saturday.”

Ellen looks at him with grateful surprise, pats him on the shoulder. She chats with him for another moment or two before exiting out the side door. Castiel’s stomach grumbles a little—perhaps he should’ve asked her to make him an omelette first, he thinks with a regretful chuckle—but he shouldn’t run on a full stomach anyways. He grabs an apple, alternating between chewing his snack and sipping his coffee, scrolling through his phone in the quiet kitchen. He has messages from Gabriel and Inias, and some work-related lists from Charlie, but he’ll answer those later. For now, he prefers staying off-the-grid so no one ruins his good mood. 

The acreage on his estate is impressive enough that a few laps around the property make him winded, and once he’s outside, he’s thankful that he grabbed his headphones at the last minute and can blast a classic rock station to drown out the sounds of his breathing. As ostentatious as this place is, there is a certain beauty to the property—the gardens, which Joshua carefully crafts; the glittering pool and multi-jet hot tub that he rarely gets to use; the greenhouse, with vegetation warm and wet; and the beehives on the cusp of harvest. 

He gets so lost in the music and the sights that he runs longer than planned, the burning in his calves fueling him forward, sweat dripping down his face and back. His t-shirt is clinging to him now, and he uses the bottom of his shirt to swipe away the sweat on his brow. When his vision clears again, he sees Dean standing in the center of the quad with a football in hand, staring at him. The gaze is nearly…heated, Dean examining his naked, sweaty torso and exposed arms and legs with obvious interest. Castiel’s insides flip from the attention, wanting to show the omega just how in shape he truly is. But just as quickly as the look comes, it goes, and Dean gives him a shy wave before tossing the football back to someone—Sam, most likely.

Castiel drops his shirt back down and slows to a jog. He heads in their direction, smiling when he sees Dean out of a suit and back in his typical jeans and flannel. Cas slips his bluetooth headphones off but leaves them hanging around his neck, music still blaring. 

“Good morning,” Castiel greets warmly.

“Hey, Cas. Gettin’ your fitness on?” Dean asks with a playful grin. 

“Something like that,” Castiel says, returning the smile. He makes a point to look at them both, though Sam is standing several yards away. Cas notices the bruise on the teen’s face is fading, thankfully…though he frowns at it all the same. Dean takes a step towards him, so close their arms are almost brushing, and whispers, “It’s, uh, from some douchebag guy at school—not our dad, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Castiel breathes a sigh of relief, until Dean adds, “Not this time, at least.”

Castiel crosses his arms and nods, schooling his expression. Dean looks at him curiously, leaning in closer.

“You really don’t like my old man, do you?” he asks. Castiel thinks back to their first meeting, the way John had been so willing to sell Dean into a red-collar contract with Dick Roman. He can’t even imagine all the depraved, degrading things Roman would’ve forced Dean to do, all thanks to the negligence of Dean’s father—

“Woah,” the omega mutters, almost dizzily, hand sliding up to Castiel’s bicep. “You gotta chill out, man.” Though the touch is appreciated, Castiel has no idea _how_ Dean knows what he’s thinking, and tilts his head in question. 

“Excuse me?”

“You’re, uh, letting out some pretty pissed off alpha vibes,” Dean admits, the blush returning to his cheeks. “I can tell you hate the guy, and it’s okay… He’s family, but that’s about all I can say for him. You’ve done more for me’n Sammy in a week than he’s done in ten years.”

Castiel breathes through his nose, nodding minutely. “Thank you, Dean… I enjoy having you here. Both of you.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask you…” Dean shifts from foot to foot, staring down at his boots. “If you’re serious about Sam living here, let me know how much it’ll cost—room and board, food, gas, all that.”

Castiel blinks in confusion. “Pay me?”

“Yeah,” Dean says uncertainly.

“You don’t have to—”

“I’m not really into charity, Cas,” Dean interrupts, voice suddenly firm.

Castiel swallows and nods. Knowing how proud Dean Winchester is, how his dignity is perhaps the only currency he has available to him, means that Castiel shouldn’t push the issue. “Very well. We have a maid service that comes often, but perhaps you can do some cleaning in-between visits? Particularly in the kitchen, and anywhere else Missouri sees fit?”

Dean absorbs the information quietly, and then nods. “Yeah, um, that sounds good. Thanks, Cas.”

That decided, Castiel thinks back to a moment ago—when they were discussing John Wincester and Dean had been able to scent the alpha’s anger. His feelings. 

“Sorry, but you said something earlier about ‘pissed off alpha vibes.’ Are you saying you can scent me…and my moods? Even with the blockers on?”

Dean shrugs like this is no big deal, though Castiel knows it’s quite the opposite. “Your blockers are fading a little,” he says, as if that explains it. “Looks like not even the prescription stuff can handle a hard run, huh?”

Castiel nods agreeably, but before he can probe into this phenomenon further, Sam shouts, “Hey, Dean, you ready for lunch?”

Beside him, Dean laughs, cupping his hands around his mouth and replies, “Dude, it’s barely ten-thirty!”

Sam shrugs, muttering something about going to get a snack at least—before he’s wandering off towards the main house and leaving Dean and Castiel alone together. It’s strange, how nervous this makes Castiel—they’re alone together in a professional sense quite often. But never in the morning sunshine, both of them dressed casually, exerted from exercise and standing so close. They could just be any alpha and omega, drawn to each other inexplicably. 

“Cas, am I hearing…Zeppelin? Or have I finally lost it?” Dean asks, whipping his head around to locate the source of the music. Castiel chuckles and holds his headphones up in explanation, and Dean grins. “Awesome. Not much of an exerciser myself, but who knows, with the right inspiration… ” 

Castiel thinks briefly of the many, many ways he’d recommend Dean squeeze in some daily activity…but the majority are not in the least bit appropriate.

“Well, I should finish this lap,” Castiel says regretfully. “Though I may walk it. I’m woefully out of shape.”

Dean chuckles and says, “That’s not what it looks like from over here.” 

He drops his mouth a little, blushing again and scratching the back of his neck nervously. A contented pride blooms inside of Castiel’s chest at the compliment. 

“Would you like to join me?” he asks, tossing a hand out in front of them.

Dean’s eyebrows raise before he smiles and nods. “Yeah, sure. Apart from the day I helped Joshua, I haven’t really been outside much. This place is freaking huge.”

“It is,” Castiel murmurs with some embarrassment, wondering how pretentious a place like this must make him look. If not for the family attachment, he surely would have settled down somewhere much more modest. 

They begin walking side by side, a slow sort of stride that’s less about exercising and more about talking. 

“Sorry you’ve been cooped up all week,” Castiel says lightly. “It’s difficult for me to remember how important it is to leave the office.”

“S’okay, you got a lotta work to do.” Dean closes his eyes and throws his face up to the sun, his freckles dusting his face, eyelashes thick and light against his skin. “The sun does feel really good, though.”

Castiel looks at the flowers blooming, the rays reflecting off the tiered fountain they’re passing, the pollen already floating in the air. He thinks for a moment about how spring reflects what it’s like to be in Dean’s presence—pure, unequivocal sunshine. 

They chat for a moment about the weather, the coldness of the exiting winter, before discussing their favorite seasons. Turns out they both love fall, and Castiel feels excited by the knowledge that they’ll be able to experience that together—that Dean will be around for the next two years at least, fulfilling his contract. That fact also makes his stomach heavy with dread, though, and he frowns slightly. How in the world will he keep things friendly and professional between them for two years? So far, he can barely last one week.

“Can I, uh, ask you a question?” Dean says out of the blue, while they’re passing by the pool and discussing how excited Sam will likely be to spend his summer doing cannonballs. 

“Of course,” Castiel says instantly. 

“Last night, when you were saying all that sciency stuff about omegas…” Dean blinks, bites his lower lip, then continues. “I just wondered why you knew all that. Did you know one once?”

Despite the heat, Castiel feels a chill run up his spine. 

“I’ve known many omegas,” he says matter-of-factly, though it’s somewhat of a lie. Sure, he’s run into omegas from time to time, but he’s quite intentionally never been close to one. Not since…

He swallows, staring straight ahead and hoping Dean drops this line of questioning soon.

“I mean, did you _know_ one… As more than just friends, y’know? Have you ever been—”

“Mated?” The word comes out like cotton in Castiel’s mouth.

Dean looks at the ground and nods. “Sorry, I know it’s not really any of my business…”

“Yes,” Castiel mutters, crossing his arms over his chest, his heart pounding in his ears. Dean looks at him, clearly surprised, before the alpha adds, “You’re right. It’s not really any of your business.”

Dean’s mouth gapes, cheeks turning a flustered shade of red before he chuckles defensively and mutters, “Got it.”

An awkwardness settles between them that has Castiel’s stomach in knots. He can see how distressed Dean is, how upset he’s become by Castiel’s dismissal. But Cas can’t help it—this is something he can’t talk about, not even with his older brothers, who were there alongside him as everything fell apart. If there’s anyone in his life right now that Castiel wishes he could talk to honestly, it would be the beautiful, sincere, honest Dean Winchester. Cas hasn’t been so tempted to let all of his skeletons out of the closet in a very long time, which in reality, speaks volumes to how Dean makes him feel. But he doesn’t—he can’t. It wouldn’t be right to burden Dean with a story so tragic. 

Instead he asks with a forced peppiness, “Have you ever seen a beehive?”

Dean shifts, confliction crossing his face. He’s likely attempting to decide if he plans to stay angry with Castiel for the way their previous topic just ended, but in the end, the omega forces a small smile on his face and says, “Uh, just on cartoons.”

Castiel chuckles, relieved that some of the tension has eased. “In reality, they’re quite different.” 

He leads them to a small area with two small pine boxes on stilts, bordered by decorative stones. 

“Growing up, my parents were fixated on beekeeping.” Castiel pats his hands carefully against the wood as Dean raises an eyebrow. “It was bizarre hobby to most, but I had a sort of…natural inclination for it. I enjoyed learning about the process, the various techniques. Sometimes I think I adopted their work ethic, to my own detriment.”

Dean laughs softly. “So that ‘worker bee’ thing isn’t just something people say?”

“Oh no, it’s a well-named idiom. Did you know that honey bees have to gather nectar from two million flowers to make one pound of honey?” 

“Jesus,” Dean wheezes, and Castiel just nods, content to be discussing something he’s so passionate about.

“In fact, one bee has to fly about ninety thousand miles—three times around the globe—just to make one pound of honey.”

Dean whistles, sliding his hands into his back pockets. “You learned all this growing up?”

Castiel nods, hands touching the wooden boxes with appreciation.

“You were one of those super precocious little kids, huh?” Dean chuckles, his own hands admiring the softly aged wood.

“Guilty,” Castiel says, grinning. “Would you like to try some?”

Dean eyes the hive, almost as if bees will start rushing him at any moment. “Try some…?”

“Honey. With some finagling, we can eat it straight from the comb.” 

“Woah, seriously?” The smile on Dean’s face is stunning, his teeth gleaming white in the sunshine, eyes sparking. “Sure! Thanks, Cas.” 

Castiel claps his hands together in excitement. “Excellent. Though, I’ll need to head inside for some supplies—”

“I carry a pocket knife,” Dean says, rummaging around in his jeans before whipping out a folded knife. “Would that work?”

Castiel considers it—the conditions aren’t ideal, as he really ought to go into the garage and retrieve his usual tools and suit. He doesn’t smoke his bees—considering the tactic cumbersome and inhumane—so Joshua leaves a spray bottle tucked underneath the hive, filled with watered-down essential oils ideal for spraying the bees and disorienting them momentarily. Besides, he’s comfortable around the bees now; they haven’t stung him in years. And he wouldn’t be gathering _all_ the comb, of course, but just a small taste. Selfishly he doesn’t want to disrupt the moment growing between them, to risk walking back to the main house and have others join them.

“We can try,” he says lightly, accepting the knife graciously and opening it. He looks between the hive and Dean, then says, “You may want to back away.”

Dean shrugs and jokes in an outlandish voice, “I ain’t afraid of no bees.”

Castiel chuckles and shake his head. “Even so, I would feel more comfortable guaranteeing you aren’t stung.”

Dean looks like he’s going to argue, but eventually throws his hands up and relents, backing away slowly. Castiel carefully pries away one of the frames, his hands sure and careful, even as the bees begin to descend. His movements are fluid as he sprays the bees with an even mist from the nearby bottle, dropping it in the grass once the effect takes hold. He spots a chunk of comb largely uninhabited, shooing away some straggler bees before bringing Dean’s knife down steadily. This is risky, and Castiel knows it—generally you harvest the honey away from the bees, so they don’t follow you or become threatened—but part of him realizes he’s showing off for Dean. Whether it’s his twenty-five years of experience or just luck, Castiel manages to cut a sizable hunk for them to share before dropping the frame back into its slot. 

“Wow,” Dean mutters, meeting Cas in the middle as they walk towards each other. The honeycomb on Castiel’s hand is sticky and a little runny, his hand certainly needing a proper wash once their tasting is done. 

“Can you eat this part?” Dean asks tentatively, pointing with his finger.

“The comb? Yes, it’s essentially just wax. Most of it will dissolve in your mouth,” he says. He drags a finger through the pool of honey on his palm, brings it to his mouth, and sucks—moaning a little when the sweetness hits his tongue. Dean watches him with rapt attention, licking his lips. 

“Good?” Dean rasps.

Castiel closes his eyes, transported momentarily to happier, easier days. “Divine.”

He opens his eyes and Dean’s gaze is penetrating, heated. The omega clears his throat and says, “So, uh, can I…?”

“Oh, of course,” Castiel says, feeling foolish that he’s denied Dean a taste. He picks the comb up with his fingers, sticky and dripping honey into his palm. “It’s quite messy, though. Perhaps I should…”

He steps closer, bringing the comb up to Dean’s lips. This close, all of Dean’s beauty is magnified. Even the momentary presence of his tongue swiping across his lower lip makes Castiel’s heart race. He doesn’t speak, just opens his mouth willingly as the honey touches his lips. Castiel barely breathes when his fingertips brush Dean’s plump lower lip, their eyes locked together as Dean’s tongue swipes away the dripping honey. It’s obscene, how intimate this is, how everything between them seems laden with sexual tension. Castiel would give anything right now to chase the honey right off Dean’s lips, to push him up against the closest tree and lock their lips together until all traces of sweetness are gone, and all that remains is them—sticky and needy and joined together. Finally.

“Dean…” Castiel’s voice breaks a little, an octave lower than usual. He’s staring at Dean’s lips and Dean is staring right back, his hips angled towards Cas, his torso swaying dangerously close. He could do this, he could give in completely and kiss Dean Winchester on his mouth, his neck, his chest, perhaps even the most secret and sensitive parts of his body, a gift for Castiel alone to explore—

And then he takes a step back, breathing hard, chest panting. He needs to get a grip, and get one quickly. He tries to recover from what just happened between them by mumbling in a deep voice, “So…did you enjoy the taste?”

Dean blinks, his eyes hooded as he whispers, “Yeah, Cas… I’ve, uh, never tasted anything sweeter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo full disclosure that neither of us are beekeepers, and though we research heavily, we aren't experts. Sometimes you have to suspend your disbelief in the name of sexual tension, aka Cas hand-feeding Dean honey right off the comb. Agreed? Agreed. 
> 
> Well anyways, c'mom… Pour a glass of wine and come decompress with us in the comments!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, loves! Apologies for the hiatus last week, but sometimes life prevents us from getting our weekly update in. But this chapter should hopefully make up for it. <3
> 
> EDIT: One of the overarching tags for this fic is Omega Discrimination and Sexual Harassment. If you want more specific content warnings for this chapter, though, please see the notes at the chapter's end!

Nearly a month later, Dean can finally say he’s settling into a rhythm. He feels at home in a way he never felt in Lawrence. He thinks having Sam here is part of it—knowing he’s safe and fed and doing his homework sets part of him at ease. Even so, he had Sam with him in Lawrence and he didn’t feel this…this… _safe_. 

He loves that there’s always a pot of coffee waiting for him when he gets up, and that Ellen doesn’t say a word to him till he’s had a chance to finish his first cup. He loves getting the morning rundown from Missouri, which he’s learned usually includes gossip around the company and house. Missouri knows everything. He likes having space to throw a ball with Sam in the evenings, or just to go for a walk and breathe fresh air. He loves how Alfie asks him a million questions about cars and the Impala every time he sees him. He even likes the library, where he tends to spend at least an hour a day reading by the window while Sam does his homework. He’s worked through the first book in the _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy and is moving on to the second.

While all of this is great and better than he could have hoped for, it’s a certain alpha who really makes him feel at home. He’s ready to admit to himself that he’s harboring a pretty intense crush on his boss. He doesn’t like it—he’s never been on this end of things. He is used to being chased for his looks and his gender, but now he’s the one following Castiel around like some love sick puppy. He’s Dean fucking Winchester, and people want him…not the other way around. Well, at least they want to fuck him. No one has ever wanted more from him, but he’s okay with that. There really isn’t much more going on than a pretty face, and he’s better on his own. It’s easier that way. At least, it was until he met Cas.

He hopes no one has noticed how he stares at Cas when he isn’t looking, or stands too close when he thinks the alpha won’t notice. He just likes being near him. He likes his surprising humor and sharp, biting wit. He likes how he can be kind and soft with his staff one minute, and a shark in the boardroom the next. He loves the way he smells, and takes more time cleaning the alpha’s bedroom on the weekends than is strictly necessary. He has barely refrained from curling up in his bed and just rolling around in his scent, imagining all the ways they could try and break the new headboard.

Needless to say he’s had yet another restless night’s sleep, thinking of blue eyes and the taste of honey on his lips. Sam is banging around the small suite while Dean fiddles with his stupid tie, trying to get it to look some semblance of professional and failing miserably. He can’t seem to get his head on straight—why would his tie be any different?

“I’m heading out, Dean. See ya later!” Sam calls, and thunders out of the suite like the clumsy moose he is. Dean can’t help but smile a little. Sam has settled in so well here. He didn’t really notice how miserable Sam was before until seeing him here—so happy. Sam always deserved a home like this, and it hurts him a little to think it took Dean so long to find this for him. So, he can’t go fucking that up by sleeping with his boss. Castiel could easily toss him on his ass and throw his contract back to Roman whenever he wants, and Dean knows it. He needs to keep his shit together.

There’s a knock on the door and he heads to answer it, still fiddling with his tie…which now has a twisted knot and too long a tail. “You forget something?” he asks, opening the door and distractedly messing with the tangle of fabric around his neck.

“Not that I’m aware of,” a deep, chuckling voice replies. Dean looks up to see Castiel smiling at him.

“Oh, uh…sorry. Thought you were Sammy,” he answers, getting his thumb stuck in the tie and tugging at it like an idiot.

“May I help you with that?” Castiel says, gesturing at Dean’s chest.

“I can figure it out,” he mutters, finally jerking his hand free and banging it against the door jam. He makes an undignified yipe and shakes his hand, rubbing at the stinging knuckles.

“Please, let me help before you injure yourself further. Though we have excellent medical coverage, I prefer you not to have to use it,” Castiel says sternly but Dean can see the smile he’s trying to hold back. The omega flushes a deep red, but doesn’t protest as Castiel steps inside. 

With a hand on his shoulder, Cas guides him to the mirror by the front door. Dean can practically feel the heat of the alpha’s body as it presses up behind him. So close…but not touching. He can’t help but wonder what would happen if he just arched his back a little. Castiel’s arms reach around him, and he smiles warmly at Dean over his shoulder as he undoes the mess Dean started.

“I never really had to tie one before,” Dean admits quietly, feeling like white trash he is. Castiel doesn’t date omegas—he reminds himself for the hundredth time—and even if he did, Dean isn’t a rich smart guy like Cas. He wouldn’t want someone like Dean anyway.

“I always hated ties when I was younger. I was forced to wear them at boarding school.” Castiel straightens out the two free ends of the tie now, the back of his hands brushing down the front of Dean’s shirt. Dean barely holds back the shiver at the barely-there touch.

“You seem to like them now,” Dean says, to distract himself from his heart that’s threatening to crawl up his throat at the moment.

“Yes, well…my twin brother and I eventually made a game of it. People were always confusing the two of us, so Jimmy suggested I turn my tie backwards on my uniform. I did it everyday, and eventually people knew who we were by the tie.” Dean cocks his head, a little surprised to learn Castiel has yet another brother. Big family indeed. Graceful hands move along his sternum, and his breath hitches just a little as he watches how Cas flips the soft fabric. “You just put it over like this, and up around toward your Adam's apple here, and tuck it down in the hole.”

He licks his lips at the feel of Castiel’s hot breath on his ear, and he can’t help but tip his head just a little, exposing the long line of his neck. A puff of hot air ghosts over his skin and he bites back a whine. He’s never wanted to feel the sharp bite of teeth before, but suddenly he’s overwhelmed with it. He wants to grind back against this alpha and feel the hard line of his cock press against Dean’s cheeks. He wants to feel those strong hands that are straightening his tie sink into his hair, pulling back his head as he claims his mouth in a rough kiss.

“There, that looks much better… See?” Castiel’s voice snaps Dean out of it, and he looks in the mirror at the perfectly straight tie laying down his chest then up at the cool blue eyes in the reflection.

“Thanks,” he says, letting out a shaky breath he hopes the alpha doesn’t notice. “You don’t wear your tie backwards anymore. How do people tell you and your twin apart?” Dean asks turning to face the alpha now, but unable to bring himself to step any further away. He tries to imagine two of Castiel and it about melts his brain.

Cas looks into his eyes a moment, and there’s a flash of pain across his face. It’s fleeting, quickly replaced by a firm jaw and hard eyes. “Jimmy and I went down different paths once we graduated, so ties were no longer necessary attire for him,” Castiel answers flatly. Oh fuck, Dean really put his foot in his mouth. Obviously his brother is a sore subject, maybe they’re even estranged.

“Cas, I’m sorry man, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Castiel cuts him off stepping back a moment. “I came to tell you that one of my brothers and some of his associates are planning to stop by today to discuss a few business items. I will need you to reschedule my afternoon meetings to later in the week, and then you may be excused the rest of the day.”

“Excused?” Dean asks, thinking if it’s business he should be there as his assistant.

“Yes, Luc and his fellow associates will not adhere to my new blocker rule, and I wouldn’t want…I wouldn’t want them to make you uncomfortable.” Castiel shifts a little, pulling his shoulders back. There’s a distinct crinkle to his nose, like he can already smell the offending alphas.

“I can handle it, sir. I’m more than capable of being around alphas, no matter how much they stink,” Dean answers, crossing his arms.

“I wouldn’t want to make you feel—overwhelmed,” Castiel seems to finally settle on.

And there it is, because he's an omega he is obviously some wilting flower. Dean grits his teeth at that, 'cause god damn it, he is a grown ass man not a child, even if he is an omega. Stepping up just a little closer to Castiel, he puffs out his chest. “I’m your assistant, so if you’re discussing business I’m going to be there to help you. I promise not to let my weaker gender inhibit my quality of work.” He hates being made to feel this way—like he can’t handle himself because of what’s between his legs.

“I have no doubt in your ability to do your job, Dean. Under any circumstances, but—”

“Good, then I’ll be there. I can move your appointments around and put them on Thursday, since you have some free time then. Is that all, sir?” he asks looking into those blue eyes currently searching his. What they’re looking for, he isn’t sure…but he seems to find it.

“That is all. I will see you at your desk in thirty minutes,” Cas answers with a hard nod. Dean hears him mutter something about _stubborn omegas_ as he heads out the door and disappears down the hall.

“Fuck me,” Dean sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. He feels that rush of adrenaline from being torn in so many directions. From embarrassed to aroused to concerned and then to downright pissed off. How can one person make him feel all those things? He bounces from foot to foot a moment, shaking his arms as if he can shake out the endorphins. He heads back into his room and puts on an extra layer of the expensive-ass blocker spray before he heads to the kitchen to find the biggest mug of coffee possible. 

He thinks he was maybe a little harsh on Cas, especially when he was obviously upset from talking about his brother. He can’t imagine if something happened and he didn’t talk to Sam anymore, or even if he just moved far away. He thinks Castiel wouldn’t be so upset unless they really had a bad falling out. He decides to make Castiel one his favorite coffee drinks—a honey flat white latte. Ellen eyes him making the foam and adding the honey, but stays quiet, seeming to sense Dean’s mood without him having to say anything…one of her many gifts. When he arrives at his desk Castiel’s door is unusually closed, and Dean sighs as he puts his own coffee down. More sure than ever Cas isn’t happy since he almost never closes the door, he peeks into the room to find Castiel hunched over some papers on his desk, a frown on his face.

He hates thinking that he put that there, so he moves quietly into the room and sets down the steaming cup of coffee onto the large oak desk. Castiel’s eyes lift to the beverage, a small smile curves his lips.

“Thank you, Dean,” he answers softly, turning his eyes up to meet Dean's. There’s an apology there in his eyes and Dean nods, an unspoken forgiveness. He feels some of the tension in his chest ease having delivered his peace offering, and heads back to his desk. He hopes the rest of the day goes just a little bit smoother.

****

Castiel is on-edge for the rest of the day, waiting for the group of alphas to arrive. He hates that their impending presence caused a misunderstanding this morning between him and Dean, though he’s torn between being impressed with the omega’s fierce stubbornness, and wishing he could scold Dean for being so cavalier about his own safety. Castiel just wants to keep him safe and protected, happy and sated. Throwing him into the orbit of a group of ruthless, sexist alphas is the last thing he would _ever_ choose. 

But in the end, his own sense of integrity won out over his alpha instincts. Dean knows his own limits, and Castiel has to trust the omega to make his decisions—no matter how difficult that’s proving to be lately. Castiel is drawn to Dean in a way he feels powerless to resist, and even standing behind him this morning while fixing his tie, he had wanted to rut against that plump bottom and leave a string of kisses on Dean’s exposed neck. While smoothing over the fabric of the tie, he thought he felt Dean’s heart race…thought he felt Dean shudder the closer their hips pressed together. He’s not completely obtuse—he can see that Dean responds more favorably with him than any other alpha they’ve come across. Perhaps Dean even finds him attractive, though the thought baffles Castiel a little. What would an omega with such stunning beauty want with an older, awkward alpha like Cas? 

Not that it matters if Dean is interested or not. Castiel has to keep things professional and platonic between them, and he tries daily to maintain the boundaries between them. He fails often, of course—like when Dean places a hand on his shoulder as he’s dropping off a cup of coffee, or bends over to retrieve a file that’s fallen to the floor… Castiel swears that Dean catches him sometimes looking, staring, gazing at the omega’s beauty with his mouth agape. It’s not just the attraction that’s kept Castiel’s attention, of course—Dean is intelligent, funny, loyal, wise and warm. He’s everything Castiel could ever want. 

Castiel blinks at his monitor, clearing that thought from his mind hastily. He has to stop thinking that way. It’s nearly three o’clock, which means the meeting with Luc and the other alphas will begin any moment. Besides, Castiel has been talking with someone…the beta, Inias. They’ve only spoken on the phone thanks to Castiel’s busy schedule, but the conversations are going fine. From the pictures he’s received, Inias is pale, with long black hair and dark eyes. He’s quiet, meek even. He’s about as different from the young, sandy-haired, bursting-with-life omega that Castiel could possibly find. 

Then again…when did he start caring about things like that? And when did he start comparing every potential partner to Dean?

Castiel tries not to think about how he’s intentionally kept Inias’s existence a secret from Dean, never mentioning him and only scheduling their phone calls for when he’s safely alone in the west wing. He’s not sure why, exactly—it’s not as if he owes Dean an apology or explanation—but deep down, he knows it’s wrong to merely pass the time with Inias when there’s no future for them. Dean has become such a reflection of goodness in his eyes, of honesty and truth, that he’s now ashamed to disappoint his omega. _The_ omega. 

“Cas?” 

Castiel whips his head up at the sound of Dean’s voice. His eyes have been staring at his computer screen for so long, they’ve begun to water. 

“Everything okay?” Dean asks, with his trademark genuineness. He bites at his full lower lip, staring at Castiel intently. Castiel exhales slowly, forcing himself to look away. The way Dean looks at him sometimes does not make him any easier to resist…

“Everything’s fine. I’m just lost in thought, it seems,” Castiel says, his voice a bit strained. 

“Yeah, I know how that feels—I’m kind of a daydreamer.” Dean gives him a small smile, and it feels like a burst of pure light surging through Castiel’s chest. “Uh, anyways… Just came in ‘cause Missouri said your brother and his associates are here. They’re waiting for us in the conference room.”

Castiel nods, forcing all his fanciful thoughts of Dean out of his head momentarily. He needs to stay clear-headed around Luc and his associates—in the time he’s known them, they’ve never _not_ tried to pull some sort of scheme over on him. 

“Very well.” Castiel rises, reaching for his suit jacket on the back of his chair. He adjusts the cuffs and gives Dean an encouraging smile. “You’re sure about coming? My brother and the company he keeps are not…” He pauses, searching for the right word before finally settling on, “…pleasant. I’ve never seen it firsthand, but I’m under the impression that they do not treat omegas with the respect they deserve.”

Dean snorts. “You remember the day we met? When my dad and Dick Roman were deciding my fate like I was a piece of cattle?”

Castiel stiffens, his shoulders tense. He doesn’t trust himself to answer, so he nods instead. 

“Well, let’s just say I’ve gone through worse,” Dean says vaguely. “Besides, I…uh, feel good with you around. I feel safe.”

Warmth floods Castiel’s chest, and he resists the urge to straighten up, to show his omega just how strong and commanding he can be in order to keep Dean safe. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” he admits softly. Dean’s green eyes peer into his, full of depth and intensity, and Castiel finds himself mesmerized again. That is, until he hears a throat clear and spots Missouri standing in the doorway.

“Apologies for interrupting,” she says slowly, a gleam of mischief in her eye, “but they’re waiting for you, Castiel, and they’ve requested full bar service.”

Dean raises his eyebrows, unable to hide his disbelief. “They want to get drunk in the afternoon, during a business meeting?”

“I’m afraid so,” Castiel says regretfully. He wishes suddenly that he had come to their office instead—forcing them to leave his house in a timely manner is going to be difficult.

“Lucifer Novak is known to mix business and pleasure,” Missouri answers, and the tightness of her jaw makes it clear that she doesn’t approve. 

“Huh,” Dean says speculatively. “Didn’t expect him to have Don Draper vibes, but…cool, I guess.”

“I don’t understand that reference,” Castiel mumbles, and Dean chuckles, clapping him on the back. Without speaking any further, they file in after Missouri and walk down the hallway and into the formal conference room. Normally, it’s one of Castiel’s favorite spots to conduct business—the long, polished table is a rich mahogany, and the windows are wide and ornate—overlooking a bed of blooming tulips. But the company occupying the room makes him dread the room instead. His brother sits in the center, looking dreadfully casual in jeans and a ruffled button-up shirt. Lucifer never was one for decorum—if anything, he breaks rules simply just to break them. 

Sitting on one side of Luc are two of his most cutthroat associates—Abaddon and Lilith, both looking polished in sleek jumpsuits. On the other side, there’s no-nonsense Raphael—sporting similar attire to Lucifer—and the sharp-suited Brit, Crowley.

“Baby bro,” Luc says cheerily, standing and greeting him with a hug that Castiel doesn’t return. He pulls away, cupping Castiel’s face playful. “About time you got here. Your mouthy little blonde wouldn’t give me a double-shot, but I knew my brother wouldn’t be stingy with his liquor.”

“Her name is Jo,” Castiel says evenly, giving him a tight smile. “But of course. Any drink you’d like.”

Luc grins at him broadly, clapping him aggressively on the back. “‘Atta boy, Cassie.” He peeks behind Castiel’s shoulder, as if just noticing something interesting. “Does that extend to your delicious new assistant?” He whistles loudly, and suddenly, all the attention is on Dean. 

All six alphas gaze at Dean with such open lust and longing that Castiel’s hands ball into fists, his heart pounding in his chest. The scent of alpha in the room was already heavy enough, but now it’s laced with aggressive sex phermones, and he wants nothing more than to hide Dean from view. 

“Well, we can see why Castiel finally broke his ‘no omega’ rule,” Raphael says, chuckling darkly.

“Oh, Castiel, you bad boy,” Lilith says with a wink. “This is like cheating on your diet with gourmet dessert. I didn’t know you were quite so indulgent.”

“Come here, sweet omega,” Abaddon says, twirling her long red hair flirtily between her fingertips. “Let’s get a closer look at you.”

To Castiel’s utter shock and horror, Dean does just that—walking slowly over to the center of the room, a foot away from where the alphas are sitting, practically salivating over Dean. 

“Take a good look,” Dean says stiffly, “‘cause that’s all you’re ever gonna get.”

The alphas grin and laugh, throwing their heads back at Dean’s unexpected boldness. Castiel can feel sweat forming on his forehead.

“Mouthy as well,” Crowley says approvingly. “That’s preferred. Nothing bores me more than an omega who simply bends over and takes it.”

“Though they look good bent over all the same,” Raphael adds.

“It’s much better when they struggle, though,” Lilith says, the others nodding along in approval. “Even when they say ‘no,’ you know that’s omega for ‘please, alpha, fuck me harder.’”

“Those lips alone…” Abaddon crosses her legs, eyeing Dean up and down. “You give a girl all sorts of nasty ideas.”

“Enough,” Castiel growls, taking a step toward Dean. Any semblance of patience has evaporated into thin air. He’s tried to give Dean the freedom and choice to stand up to them, to provide a show of strength against them. As valiant as the effort was, it has only enticed them more, which Castiel finds maddening. He can’t stand much more of this. “Lucifer, if you plan to present a proposal to me today, I advise you to get on with it. _Quickly_.” 

He puts a protective hand on Dean’s shoulder, drawing him backwards. The omega flinches at first until he realizes it’s Cas, softening a bit at the touch and taking a step closer to the alpha. 

“Interesting,” Luc says, hand on his chin in feigned contemplation. 

Castiel sighs. “What is?”

“It’s just—our dear brother mentioned that you’re potentially dating someone…a beta, right?”

Dean looks up at Castiel, his expression unreadable. Castiel feels like a lead balloon has been dropped into his stomach. 

“I hardly see how that’s relevant,” he says evenly. “Dean is a valued employee with a white-collar contract. Being my assistant is his only duty.”

Another round of incredulous chuckles break out across the table.

“You’ve got to be kidding!” Lilith says dramatically. “A white-collar contract for an omega that looks like _that_?”

“Denial, thy name is Castiel.” Luc returns to his seat finally with a flourish. “That omega wants you to stuff him full with your alpha cock, I guarantee it.”

The skin on the back of Castiel’s neck prickles, his cheeks heating red. “That’s not—” he begins weakly.

“Bet he gushes slick just thinking about it.” Abaddon stands up swiftly, taking definite steps until she’s a breath away from Dean’s lips. “If you’re not alpha enough to fuck him, Castiel, I’d be happy to buy his contract for the right price.” She places a hand on Dean’s cheek and whispers, “Just picture it—you on all fours, _screaming_.”

“Get your fucking hands off of me, lady,” Dean spits out, slapping Abaddon’s hand away with a burst of anger. “I’m not interested in leaving Cas.”

“And I’m not selling his contract,” Castiel says, his voice so low and growling he wonders if his words are audible. His grip on Dean’s shoulder has turned possessive, fierce. He hopes he doesn’t leave a bruise. His eyes feel fiery and heated, and he knows they’re flashing in color. Dean gapes at him openly but doesn’t pull away. “If any of you wish to continue doing business with me, then any discussion involving Dean, his secondary gender, or his contract, is officially over.”

The tension in the room is thick enough to slice with a butter knife, but finally, Luc claps his hands together and laughs. 

“I’ve never seen you go ‘all alpha’ like that, Cassie,” Luc says excitedly. “This omega needs to stay with you, I’ve decided. If you can’t get it up for him, then you won’t be able to get it up for any omega, _ever_.” 

Before Castiel can reply, Abaddon gives Dean a glare before muttering under her breath, “Good luck ever getting him to fuck you,” and returning to her seat. Castiel feels such a combination of emotions—angry, possessive, embarrassed. He feels split wide open, his nearly obsessive pull towards Dean evidently on display for everyone. When Jo and Missouri enter the doorway pushing a large bar cart, Dean gives Castiel a small frown before stepping away and helping them mix the other alphas’ drinks. Castiel takes his seat at the head of the table, feeling dizzy with exasperation and fury. It’s easy to forget how truly terrible these alphas are when they’re only doing business via email, but seeing them in person makes him want to seethe and cut all ties with them. 

Once the guests have drinks and are downing copious amounts of expensive alcohol, the room seems to settle. Dean pulls up an extra chair and sits to Castiel’s left, and the proximity eases something in Cas as he sinks into his own seat. After a few more moments of idle chit-chat about Luc’s favorite things—cash, booze, and omegas ass-up—they begin to present Castiel with their latest investment opportunity. It involves Christopher Alastair, the infamous alpha politician apparently seeking millionaire backers for his forthcoming run for president. 

“You came here on the behalf of a politician?” Castiel asks incredulously, fighting back a laugh. “I’m a businessman, an investor. You know I don’t involve myself in politics.”

“Money is political, whether you admit to it or not,” Raphael grumbles. 

“Besides, it is a business offer,” Luc adds, exchanging looks across the table. “Would you like the honors, Crowley?”

“Certainly. Alastair owns one of the most lucrative mining businesses in the world,” the Brit explains with folded hands. “Bottom line, Castiel—we collectively write him a sizable check, we’re given stock in his company to split, and earn our investment back tenfold.”

“Don’t you want to make your millions into billions?” Lilith sips her drink, her eyelashes fluttering as she polishes off her cosmopolitan. 

“And being in bed with the future president has its perks,” Abaddon comments. “He’s not your typical politician—what he can’t accomplish above-board, he takes by force. I find his approach…quite effective.”

Castiel considers their pitch, keeping his face an unreadable mask. “And how much does his stock sell for?”

“Five, minimum,” Luc says with a shrug. “Chump change for you, Cassie. How many millions you got cozy in the bank now?”

Castiel shifts in his head, giving his brother a forced smile. He doesn’t answer; instead, he says, “Tell me more about Alastair. I hardly have time to keep track of aspiring politicians in my time off, you know.”

“Fiscally conservative, of course,” Crowley says, as if that’s a given. 

“A true businessman,” Lilith comments. “Just what this country needs.”

Beside him, Castiel feels Dean shifting in his chair. When he casts his eye in the omega’s direction, he sees his cheeks are flushed red, his eyes wide with panic in Cas’ direction. 

“Dean,” Castiel says cautiously, wary of all the alphas watching them. “Do you have something to add?”

Dean gnaws on his lip nervously. “Well, it’s just…” He adjusts the small laptop in his lap, where he’s been keying in notes for Castiel in case he needs them later. “I don’t exactly keep up with the news either, but Sammy says this guy is bad news.”

“Adorable, when omegas think they can add anything meaningful to a business conversation,” Lilith says cruelly. Castiel shoots her a furious glare and she clears her throat, looking away. 

“Tell me what you mean,” Castiel tells Dean insistently. 

“He… Well, he wants to cut all the healthcare programs for omegas,” Dean says quietly. “Like our access to abortion clincs or free birth control. Pretty sure he said they shouldn’t be allowed to have jobs or leave the home, either.”

Castiel’s eyes widen, casting his gaze to the other alphas. “Is this true?”

None of them speak until Luc gives a casual shrug. “So, he’s got some fringe views. Are they so bad? All politicians are crooked in some way, but this one we’ll have in our pocket. And you know what they say, Cassie… The devil you know.”

Castiel just hums noncommittally and doesn’t respond. Finally, he says in a level voice, “Thank you for coming, Lucifer, but I don’t believe this opportunity sounds like a good fit for me.” 

“Cassie—” Luc begins, but Castiel cuts him off. 

“If you’ll excuse me, it’s been a long day and I have other business to attend to,” Castiel says briskly, standing and pulling at his jacket by the cuffs. Dean follows suit, standing and shooting Castiel an approving smile.

“I’ll show you all the door,” Dean says cheerily, turning his back on the alphas and stepping through the threshold—as if he can’t wait to take the garbage out. 

*** 

Dean walks with his head up, feeling just a touch of pride as he walks to the front door. His alpha listened to him—he did the right thing even if it wasn’t good for his wallet. Dean knows he shouldn’t be feeling so smug that Castiel took his side, but damn it, maybe he can cling to this feeling for just a moment. Castiel hadn’t been exaggerating about how terrible these alphas are. Dean is more than happy to get them out of his space and away from Castiel.

While he walks, he tries hard no to think about the fact that Castiel is seeing someone else. The news had hit him like a punch in the gut. He only prays that he didn’t look like someone had gutted him, though Luc had given him a knowing wink when Cas hadn’t been looking. 

Finally at the entryway, he goes to pull the door open and gestures outside with a flourish—watching as the female alphas and Raphael pass him with a sneer. Dean looks back to see Luc approaching him, while Castiel is stopped by the short British alpha just down the hallway.

“I see the way you look at him,” Luc says, leaning in to Dean and whispering just under his breath.

Dean bites the inside of his cheek fiercely and refuses to answer. Has he really been that obvious?

“It's a shame my brother won’t alpha up enough to show you that your place is at the end of a knot. You know he’ll never mate you, right?” Luc’s voice drops down an octave when he says, “‘Cause you aren’t worth dying for.”

Dean’s head turns, and he looks at Luc’s face—trying to tell what the hell he meant by that. “What do you mean…dying?” he finally asks, unable to handle that smug look on the alpha’s face.

“Why, what do you think happened to our dear brother, Jimmy…hmm? There’s a reason my still-breathing little brother stays far away from omegas.” 

Did he really mean that—did Castiel’s brother really die? And what does that have to do with omegas? He darts a quick glance over to see the alpha in question, nodding at the Brit with his jaw set. Dean had thought Cas had been estranged from his twin…not that he was dead. If that was the case, why wouldn’t Cas just tell him?

“When you're ready to ride a real knot, you can always give me a call.” Luc reaches up and trails a single finger across Dean’s cheek until Dean jerks back. 

“Fuck off, Luc. Not in your dreams.” Dean scowls at the alpha, feeling the hair prickle on the back of his neck as he struggles to focus with this new piece of information.

“We’ll see. If I know my brother, he’ll get sick of you soon. He’ll toss you back to Roman before you can blink. Dick’s a good friend of mine, actually, and he’s usually more than happy to share… I look forward to it.” Luc gives him one last look before sweeping out the door and out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, our poor omega…
> 
> So, we have great news—I (TrenchcoatBaby) am hopping on a plane this weekend to see CB! We'll be doing tons of fun stuff, per the ushe, but we'll also spend a good amount of time writing together and chatting about these boys of ours. We are officially obsessed with this story and we love y'all's enthusiasm for it, so keep the comments coming!
> 
> \--
> 
> Content warning: extreme sexism, derogatory behavior, lewd sexual slurs, implication of sexual abuse or rape for omegas (in speech only)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evening, loves! Well… Our trip together was amazing, as usual. We were able to write about two chapters of this story, on top of eating tons of goodies, reading fic, watching SPN, and being nerdy little tourists. Yeah, it was _awesome_. 
> 
> Anyways, thanks for being so supportive. Y'all are the best readers we could ever ask for!
> 
> P.S. Check the end notes if you'd like a content warning.

Later that night Castiel lies awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling. It’s storming outside, a constant rolling of thunder with bright flashes of lightning. Sheets of rain pelt his window, and Castiel sighs in sleepy aggravation. Usually, he’s a deep and easy sleeper—but tonight he’s having trouble forcing his brain to shut down. He’s still trying to comprehend the day’s events. 

He had rejected his brother’s business proposal, and had pleased Dean in the process—something that makes Castiel’s inner alpha glow. But something had happened afterwards, something Castiel hasn’t been able to figure out. Dean had been at the front door, speaking with Luc, when his face had suddenly fallen. For the rest of the evening Dean seemed quiet, even withdrawn, barely eating dinner before rushing off to his suite. Castiel hadn’t seen him since, and though he’s probably just paranoid and reading into things, he can’t fight this overwhelming sense of _wrongness_. 

Seeing his eldest brother is never a pleasant experience, and watching Dean undergo such vile objectification from the other alphas had made his stomach turn. Not to mention, all the teasing comments they had made about him and Dean wanting each other—though incredibly rude and inappropriate, might not be entirely incorrect. Castiel wants Dean very much, every minute of the day lately, and there are moments when Dean’s eyes linger on him too long, or the soft timbre of his voice makes Castiel think, maybe…just maybe…

“No, no, no,” he scolds himself aloud. He chuckles darkly, realizing he’s officially reached the “talking to himself” stage in his obsession with Dean. Resigned to getting little sleep tonight, he rolls out of bed and reaches for his robe. Perhaps he’ll visit the library downstairs and find something long and laborious to put him to sleep. The inside of the manor is dark, too dark, and Castiel flicks absently at the light switch for a nearby hallway—nothing. The electricity must be out.

His phone is back in his bedroom charging, so he continues walking toward the grand staircase. On the coffee table there’s a three-armed candelabra, the candlesticks themselves quite dusty, but he reaches for the box of matches, figuring it’ll do. He feels a tad ridiculous as he descends the grand staircase holding a candelabra, but no one’s around to see him behave like an extra in _The Phantom of the Opera._

He walks swiftly but carefully down to the library, cracking the door open and closing it behind him. He’s setting the flickering candlesticks onto the small table in the center—wondering absently if he’s going to have difficulty reading in candlelight—when he sees movement in the armchair across from him. 

He flinches on instinct, startled to see that he’s apparently not alone. But then a sleepy voice mumbles, “Cas?” and his alarm morphs into something similar, something just as rousing. 

_Excitement._

“Dean,” he breathes, watching as the omega rubs at his eyes and leans into the candlelight. Dean is clutching _The Fellowship of the Ring_ to his chest, and he’s wearing a tight-fitting t-shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants. The yellow light makes his face look angelic—smooth skin, vivid green eyes, eyelashes long and black. He’s beautiful, warm and rumpled from sleep, and Castiel feels a pang in his chest at the sight. He’ll never get to roll over in bed and see Dean like this, never be able to share in such an intimate moment with him, and the longing ripples through him in desperate waves. 

“Dean,” he repeats, hoping his internal torment at seeing Dean like this isn’t utterly obvious. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“S’okay. Didn’t mean to fall asleep in here,” Dean mumbles, as Castiel takes the seat across from him. Dean reaches out, blindly reaching for the lamp, frowning when light doesn’t flood the room. “What…?” 

His question is answered when a particularly loud crash of thunder hits, and he seems more lucid now, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and looking at Castiel with wide eyes. “Bad storm?”

Castiel nods. “It began about an hour ago.” He ties the belt around his robe tighter and asks, “Is that why you’re in here? Couldn’t sleep?”

“Oh, uh…no, I couldn’t sleep, even before the storm,” Dean says. He drops his book onto the table, grasping the candlestick delicately. He pushes the light closer to Castiel, attempting to get a better look at him. Once his eyes sweep Castiel’s unclothed torso, his boxers covered only by the short robe, he swallows. “What about you?”

“Oh, I…” Castiel stares at the small beam of light cascading from the candles. Somehow, the darkness of the room and the lateness of the hour has emboldened him. He’s not in his office in the daylight hours, wearing a suit and conversing with his assistant. He’s sitting by candlelight staring at the most beautiful man he’s ever seen, midnight approaching, and he wonders if he could allow himself to be honest with Dean. Just this once. 

“I was worried about you,” Castiel admits. Dean can’t contain his surprise, eyebrows rising up. 

“Me?” He points at his chest, as if the idea is preposterous. 

Castiel nods, taking a deep breath. “Today was a difficult day. My brother and his associates are…” He pauses, unable to find the right word. 

“Assholes?” Dean supplies, and Castiel gives a small laugh. He can always trust Dean to summarize a complicated situation with the most concise, and most colorful, language available. 

“Indeed. And it seemed like my brother—did he say something to you?”

“When?” Dean asks hesitantly.

“When you were walking him to the door,” Castiel says levely, watching Dean’s expression carefully. 

The omega just shrugs, his face a perfect mask, and says, “S’nothing, usual alpha bullshit.”

Castiel shakes his head, hating that Dean has gotten used to this type of abuse. “But the things they said to you, said about you…” He closes his eyes, a renewed anger flooding his senses. If Dean wouldn’t stay out of their path, then he should’ve never allowed those alphas in his home. 

“I’ll never allow that to happen again. I don’t know what I was thinking, letting them come here. I should’ve done a better job of keeping you safe.”

In fact, in this moment he loathes them completely. Each of their faces comes to his mind, their lewd sneers posed and ready. _Lucifer._ His hands become fists. _Crowley._ A surge of adrenaline makes him feel like he could run a marathon and still have residual energy to tear them apart with his bare hands. _Raphael. Lilith. Abaddon._ The thought of their hungry eyes on _his_ omega makes him want to—

“Hey,” Dean says in a soft voice. “Cas, look at me.” Then Castiel feels it—fingers reaching for him across the table, prying open his fist and taking his hand. Cas goes willingly, too taken aback by this development to resist. He opens his eyes just as Dean requested, and the omega is looking at him with wonder and affection. He squeezes Castiel’s hand, rubbing gentle circles into the top of his hand. It’s soothing, relaxing in a way Castiel has never felt. “Calm down, alpha.”

Castiel exhales in a huff, the anger fading quickly and replaced by the rushed beating of his heart. He licks his lips, his mouth suddenly parched. Dean’s never called him alpha before, not like this—like it’s a term of endearment, of respect and reverence. 

“Omega,” Castiel answers breathlessly. With one touch and a few words, they’re suddenly more—so much more than they’re allowed to be. Dean tightens his grip, entwining their fingers together properly. It’s such a small thing, but simply holding Dean’s hand is something Castiel never thought he’d be allowed to have. 

“Is this…” Dean looks at him cautiously now, biting his lip. “Is this okay?”

He stares down at their joined hands, then back up at Castiel—a request for permission clear on his face. Castiel can feel his heart beating so loudly, he wonders if Dean can hear it. He wants to say that of course it’s okay, and of course it’s _not_ okay, and he isn’t sure what his decision is going to be because he never thought Dean would offer him _this._

“I don’t know,” Castiel says weakly, though he still hasn’t pulled his hand away. “You’re… Dean, you’re my—”

“I know,” Dean interrupts, like he can’t stand for Castiel to say the words. _Assistant. Employee._

He looks away, biting his lip, his mouth set into a frown now. “I work for you, and I’m a poor, pathetic omega, so…” His tone of voice has changed from light and soft to a defensive grumble. “Guess I’m kinda your worst-case scenario, huh?”

“Dean,” Castiel says in genuine shock, leaning forward so he can grasp Dean’s hand more tightly. “That’s not true—”

“Then why are you so against being with an omega?” Dean asks, the question coming out strong and clear, as if he’s wondered this for a long time and is relieved to finally ask. “You’re not a sexist douchebag, Cas, not like so many alphas I know. But you’re still keeping me at arm’s length because of some stupid rule—”

Castiel loosens his grip on Dean’s hand, fighting to remain in control of his temper. “The rule isn’t stupid, I can assure you. It’s the furthest thing from it,” Castiel says coldly. “If I’m keeping you at arm’s length, Dean, it’s because I know what’s best—”

Dean sits back in his chair, stripping his hand from Castiel’s grip. “Oh, right, because ‘alpha knows best’—”

“In this specific instance, yes, I do,” Castiel snaps. 

Dean glares at him, his irritation and disbelief clear on his face. He crosses his arms against his chest, sulking for a moment, before asking in a quieter voice, “You know you can talk to me, right? About your family, and what you’ve been through…” Dean pauses, takes a deep breath and says, “About Jimmy.”

Castiel freezes, the tension in his shoulders traveling down his body. He can’t breathe for a moment, wondering how Dean could possibly know about Jimmy. Some of his staff is aware of his family history, but they would never betray Castiel’s trust by telling a story that’s not theirs to tell—no matter how much they like Dean. Which leaves one option, really…

“Whatever Luc told you, whatever you think you know,” he whispers in a low, husky voice, “you don’t.”

The worry lines on Dean’s forehead smooth out, replaced with another look of irritation as he chuckles darkly. “Can I ask you a question?”

Castiel feels almost certain that he won’t want to answer Dean’s query, but mutters, “You can try.”

The silence between them stretches for so long, Castiel wonders if the omega changed his mind completely. Finally, Dean sighs and begins speaking in a low voice. 

“What if I was just…some random beta you met on the street…” When he looks at Castiel this time, his eyes are wide and shiny, like he’s fighting with some internal demon he can’t name. “Would that change things?”

Castiel feels momentarily like his insides are being twisted into a knot. “How would knowing that help you?”

“It won’t,” Dean says bluntly, “but if I’m gonna get rejected, I’d rather it be over and done with.”

Castiel winces, staring down at the candlelight and imagining throwing himself inside it. That’s what it’s like, denying himself Dean—a searing, desperate burn. “Yes,” he whispers numbly, “yes, it would change things.”

He’s not sure why Dean does it, but he shakes his head, leans forward, and blows out the candles. Castiel watches with rapt attention, finding Dean stunning even as he’s filled with obvious aggravation and disappointment. 

“Thought so,” he says shortly, standing up abruptly and walking toward the exit. “Probably for the best. I’m an omega, and you wouldn’t wanna date outside your, uh, social class anyways.”

Cas begins to protest. “That’s not at all—”

“Night, sir,” Dean says curtly, twisting the doorknob and swinging it open, closing the door behind him. Afterwards, Cas sits alone in the dark, empty library, his mind racing as the storm outside rages on. 

***

Castiel feels miserable for the rest of the week, though he tries his hardest to mask it. Dean will barely meet his eyes now, and when they do speak, it’s strictly about meetings, or schedules, or emails. It’s two straight days of pure tension between them, and Cas is so unsettled by it that everything feels off—food, sleep, work. On the afternoon of the third day, in the midst of a raging headache, he catches Dean looking at him with a deep frown on his face. A few minutes later, the omega drops off a large glass of water, a bottle of pain relievers, and one of his mouth-watering sandwiches. The peace offering washes over Castiel like aloe vera on a sunburn, and after that, he tries to do small things for Dean to reciprocate—letting him leave work a little early, pouring him a cup of coffee in the morning. They still aren’t speaking, not really, but everytime Dean gives him a small, grateful smile for some random thoughtful act, the ice around Cas’ heart begins to thaw a little.

On Friday night Ellen hosts a late birthday dinner for Sam, and the teen’s general good mood is infectious. It’s a beautiful thing, seeing Dean joke around with his brother, ruffling his long hair, ribbing him about crushing on girls at school. It’s been a week since he’s seen Dean legitimately happy, and even though he’s not the cause of it, it does more to help his mood than anything else he’s tried. He sleeps well for the first time in a while, and when he wakes up on Saturday morning, he’s met with a text that brings his reality sharply back to focus.

 **Inias 8:12 AM >>** I’m looking forward to tonight. :) 

Castiel blinks, trying to recall what Inias is talking about…then he remembers. After his fight with Dean, he had finally agreed to go on a date with Inias—the beta he’s been texting for weeks. Castiel had been avoiding meeting him in person, figuring it wasn’t right to see someone else when he was still holding a torch for Dean. But that torch has been extinguished, and while Castiel isn’t the least bit happy about that fact, he has to do what he can to move on. 

Dean and Sam are both noticeably absent from the manor all day, and finally Missouri takes pity on him and says, “He has the day off to celebrate Sam’s birthday. Remember?”

Castiel blinks, looking up from where he had been staring at Dean’s empty desk. “Oh, right…” He tries to wave it off casually, but Missouri just arches her eyebrow, shakes her head, and walks away. 

When Inias comes to pick him up around five o’clock, he’s dressed in his nicest jeans, a blue button-up, and has styled his hair. He hasn’t put actual effort into his appearance for a while, so it’s a nice change, looking into the mirror and feeling worthy of a second glance. Inias is thin and soft-spoken, and is staring at the house like it’s something out of a fairytale. In hindsight, Castiel wonders if it was in poor taste to have his date pick him up, even if he insisted. He knows his estate can be quite intimidating, and he’s frankly embarrassed by it most days. 

The drive to the restaurant is pleasant, filled with small talk that’s only slightly stilted. Inias takes them to a fancy five-star restaurant, perhaps because that’s what he thinks Castiel is used to. In truth, Castiel feels uncomfortable here—on-display in the worst way. The food is absurdly complex with small portions to boot, and he after he insists on paying the three-hundred-dollar bill, he realizes he’s still hungry. 

“We can get you some popcorn at the movie,” Inias suggests, and Castiel’s interest in piqued. It’s been a long time since he’s since a film at the theater, and if this date is continuing, he’d rather have an excuse for silence to settle between them. He’s exhausted all his pre-selected first-date topics, and now he’s just drawing a blank. It doesn’t help that, at some point over dessert, he spent the better part of twenty minutes talking about Dean. Inias had asked a simple question about Castiel’s staff, and that somehow digressed into Castiel cataloging how impressive Dean’s classic rock knowledge is. 

When they pull up to the main movie theater in Kansas City, Inias parks and they strode together up to the call box. The line is long—evidently Inias has decided to take them to an action movie on its premiere weekend—and they’re talking aimlessly about how warm it feels this evening when Castiel spots him. 

Dean, ahead of him in line, has his neck craned as his eyes meet Castiel’s. Another head whips around—Sam spots him and waves, flashing him a wide grin. Castiel returns the wave but not the grin, feeling like a bucket of ice water has been poured over him. 

“Everything okay?” Inias asks in a small voice, startling Castiel from his panic. 

“What? Oh…” Castiel fidgets nervously with his cuffs, wondering if Dean has spotted Inias yet. Will he care that Castiel is out on a date? “Yes, yes of course. Everything is fine.”

He swallows, wishing more than anything that he believed it.

***

Dean had never been so happy when Sam suggested they get out of the house Saturday. He’d been moping around the house all week, feeling downright sorry for himself. He tried hard not to let Castiel see how upset he was by the rejection, but judging by the constant look of pity in the alpha’s eyes, he hadn’t done a great job of it. He really had no one to blame but himself—Cas is so out of his league. A small amount of attraction couldn’t make Castiel actually want him. For just a minute though, by the candlelight, he’d thought he’d seen something more in Castiel’s eyes. A flicker of intense desire that stirred something deep in Dean’s chest. Unfortunately, the moment had passed and Castiel had made his interest—or lack thereof—very clear. By Saturday, he just needed some time away from those scrutinizing blue eyes to clear his head.

So Dean had decided to treat Sam to a day of doing whatever he wanted. Seeing Sam happy was about the only thing that could make him smile with the mood he’s in. He kinda wondered if the little jerk could tell something had happened, considering he had been trying to distract Dean all week. It had helped, though, so the least he could do was give Sam a good birthday. 

At the beginning of the day they’d gone for a long drive, and he even let Sam play some of his awful moody indie music. Then they went to Barnes and Noble, where Dean trailed behind Sam through the aisles of books while he picked a few out. At lunch, Sam had gone on and on about some novel he was reading about Everest and how he wanted to see the new movie that had just come out.

Waiting in line for movie tickets, Dean starts running through his checking account in his head. He thinks he still has enough for the tickets and some popcorn at concessions. They may need to head home after and eat some of Ellen’s leftover lasagna for dinner, though. It’ll be pretty late when they get out, anyway. 

His phone buzzes in his hand, and he sees yet another text message from his dad. Since Sam moved in John has sent the occasional drunk text to Dean. Usually some rant about how he “better be taking care of his brother” or how he “thinks Sam should come home.” Sometimes he can tell John is real drunk when he starts threatening Dean, telling him he better not fuck things up with Novak. He grinds his teeth a bit, opening the message and reluctantly reading.

 **John 6:32 PM >> **Electric got shut off, thought you paid the damn bill

Dean groans, trying to recall if he did pay the bill. Part of him wants to just let his dad sit in the dark and pay his own damn bill. But he can’t bring himself to do that. No matter what John has done, he’s still family, and he’s all Dean has. He opens up an app on his phone and pays the overdue electric bill, paying a small wire fee to make sure it gets processed fast. Well, there goes his extra cash right out the window. He’d been hoping to save up for a new side mirror for his Baby—since his has a crack in it—but he supposes it just has to wait.

 **Dean 6:39 PM << **Bill’s paid, you should be all set in a few

He switches his phone to silent—he’s sure his dad will have more than a few choice words for him, but he’s already feeling crappy enough as it is. He’s been putting off going home and checking in on things, but now he thinks he really needs to find time next weekend. Just to be sure his dad has been showing up to work and the house isn’t burnt down. His brother still being a minor means his dad could come and take him anytime. Best to be sure John doesn’t have a reason to start something.

He shuffles up in line, nodding and trying to follow what Sam is telling him about his favorite teacher at school and struggling to keep up. It’s then that he hears it—a familiar, rough sandpaper voice. He looks over his shoulder, suddenly catching eyes with the very alpha he’s been trying all day _not_ to think about. 

He swallows hard around the rock now lodged in his throat, and he looks not at Castiel—but the man next to him. Is Cas on…a date? Is that Inias? He feels like he’s been punched right in the gut. Sam waves at Castiel with a big smile before turning to Dean. “Hey, who knew Cas would be here, huh? Wonder if they’re seeing _Everest_ too.”

Dean makes an incoherent grunt because he can’t get words out, throat closed completely. Castiel looks like a deer caught in headlights, staring at Dean and looking guilty as sin. Which is stupid—Dean knows it’s stupid. Castiel has every right to be out on a date and he’s not obligated to tell his employee about it. Still, it doesn’t stop the gut-wrenching pain he feels as Inias puts his hand lightly on Castiel’s elbow, gently cupping it. It makes Dean’s skin crawl seeing someone touching Castiel—even such an innocent gesture.

“You okay?” 

He looks over to see Sam staring at him with concern. Dean didn’t even notice they finally made it to the box office. He scrambles in his pocket for his wallet, keeping his eyes fixed on the ticket counter. He doesn’t dare look back—the last thing he needs is Cas to see the blush of embarrassment warming his cheeks. 

He snatches the ticket from the woman and grabs Sam’s sleeve, dragging him inside. Maybe if they move fast enough they can get in the theater without having to see Castiel and Inias again. He all but drags a very bewildered Sam through the groups of people and he sees an open concessions vendor, beelining it to the candy case.

“Dean Winchester…” A deep, southern drawl greets him—and he looks up behind the counter to see a warm, familiar face.

“Benny, what are you doing here?” He smiles at his old friend, the one and only alpha friend he’s ever had.

“Started working nights here for some extra dough since it’s a little slow at the diner. How you two been?” Benny asks, leaning on the counter and looking Dean up and down. “You look good, brother.”

Dean flushes a little at the compliment. Benny had asked him out once in high school, but Dean hadn’t really been able to see Benny as anything more than a friend. Still, the alpha had been cool with it. He took the rejection with a lot more grace than Dean has been with the whole Castiel situation.

“Yeah, I’ve been working a lot, too. We moved to Kansas City, actually. I meant to look you up, but things have been so busy,” Dean says apologetically.

“No worries. So what can I get you boys? Anything on the house, my treat.” Benny smiles at them, and the way Sam’s eyes widen at that offer makes Dean feel a bit better.

“Really?” Sam says, looking between the two of them.

“You heard the man,” Dean laughs a little, and Sam leans down to peer into the candy case. He looks up to see Benny sliding over a pack of licorice and a big tub of popcorn toward him.

“Hey now, that’s what I’m talking about!” Dean smiles snatching up his favorite movie candy. “Can’t believe you remembered.” Benny just tosses him a little wink, and Dean hears a low growling sound behind him. Turning, he sees Castiel and his date standing in line behind them.

“Hello Dean,” Cas manages to choke out, his voice sounding rougher than normal.

“Uh, hey Cas,” Dean replies, apparently unable to avoid seeing them. The ache in his chest returns immediately.

“So, this is Dean.” The slight man standing next to Cas steps forward, looking Dean up and down a little. 

“Inias.” He sticks out his hand for Dean to shake, and it takes every ounce of willpower Dean has to grab the hand and shake it. He can’t be blamed, however, for how hard he squeezes. He suppresses a smile when the man lets go, shaking out his hand a bit.

“I’m Sam,” his brother pipes up, introducing himself. Castiel hasn’t taken his eyes off Benny, who is placing a few more snacks on the counter with two large sodas. Castiel’s eyes almost glow as he watches the other alpha, completely oblivious to the annoyed look on his date’s face.

“Gonna introduce me?” Benny asks Dean, quirking a concerned brow at Cas and giving the omega’s shoulder a gentle nudge. Castiel lets out a low, vibrating growl that the alpha probably doesn’t even know he’s doing. Is he…jealous? Dean can’t believe it, but the dagger-eyes going on right now can only be that.

Feeling just a tiny bit better, Dean leans against the counter, watching in his peripheral vision as Castiel’s face practically turns to stone. Testing a theory, Dean reaches over, placing a hand on Benny’s arm. “Benny, this here is my boss, Mister Novak, and his date…uh, Irvin.”

“It’s Inias,” the beta grumbles, correcting him.

“Nice to meet you both.” Benny gives a little nod, but he’s looking a little stiffer at Cas.

“Come on, we’re gonna miss the trailers.” Sam tugs at Dean’s shirt. Dean takes the opening to escape, nodding goodbye at everyone and following his brother toward the theaters. He doesn’t look back even though it's killing him, even though he knows they’re watching him. He feels a little twinge of guilt at trying to make Cas jealous like that, but he just couldn’t help himself. Sam plants them dead center in the last row and settles the hug bucket of popcorn next to himself.

“You gonna tell me what all that was about?” Sam says, handing Dean his licorice.

“What are you talkin ‘bout?” Dean snatches the bucket of popcorn, leaning back in his seat. His eyes begin darting around the darkened seats for Cas and Inias.

“Uh, dude there is _so_ something going on between you two.” Sam huffs as he breaks into his box of goobers.

“Look…” Dean scowls a bit, crossing his arms and trying not to watch to see Cas come in. “Cas and I have a strictly professional relationship.” 

“How’d you know I was talking about Cas?” Sam smirks at him, and Dean lays a soft punch to his arm.

“Just let it go, Sammy.” Dean really hopes he does. Last thing he needs is Sam finding out how fucking gone he is on the guy and how very unwelcomed that is.

“Okay, okay. But for the record…I like him. You could do worse.” Sam gives a little shrug before he slips out of his jacket, hanging it off the back of his chair.

Dean is about to come up with some kind of retort when the lights begin to dim and piracy warning videos start. He finally notices two figures enter the dark theater, moving down a few rows in front of Dean. He sees the familiar silhouette of Castiel’s sturdy frame and aches suddenly to be near him. Making Cas jealous had been fun—gratifying, even—but being on the other end of it really fucking blows.

He grits his teeth, fixing his eyes on the movie screen. He watches the first few minutes, trying his best to actually follow along, wondering when the characters are going to get to the damn climbing already. An hour in and Dean can’t even remember any of the character names—he just wants to get to the end of it and get the hell out of here. A shift of movement in front, and he looks down to see Inias yawning and stretching. He watches, transfixed as that arm gently falls across Castiel’s shoulder. He feels his teeth grind and a familiar acidic burn in his gut. Watching someone touch Cas, touch _his_ alpha, makes his blood boil.

“Gotta take a leak,” Dean whispers to Sam, bolting up out his chair and practically running out into the bright concessions area. Benny raises his eyebrows as Dean catches his breath, coming to lean on the counter.

“Ugggg,” Dean groans, “I am so fucked, dude.”

“If you wanna be,” comes a laughing voice behind Dean, as some asshole alpha and his friends walk by. Dean simply flips them the bird, not even bothering to look their way.

“What's the problem, brother?” Benny asks, ignoring the dickwads as well.

Dean sighs, looking up at Benny’s soft blue eyes and seeing the concern there. “Short version?”

“Lay it on me,” Benny says, leaning down closer to Dean’s face.

“I have a crush on someone but they don’t like me back.” Dean still can’t bring himself to say Castiel’s name. 

“Oldest story there is, unrequited love. Only, I don’t think it’s as one-sided as you think.” Benny smirks and tips his head a little. Dean turns and sees Castiel standing by the theater door watching him, blue eyes narrowed and focused.

Benny leans in then, putting his lips right by Dean's, whispering, “Pretty sure you don’t look at someone like that if you don’t care.” Dean struggles not to turn and look. Benny reaches up, dragging one finger slowly down the curve of Dean’s jaw. Dean hears the sharp intake of breath coming from over near Castiel, and he can't help but smirk up at Benny. He knows what his old friend is doing now. He’s trying to drive Cas crazy—as if flirting with Dean would be so upsetting to Cas. 

But there’s a problem with this game—Cas doesn’t want him. Plus, the touch of Benny's hand makes him feel… off, wrong, _bad_. So he stands up, pulling away and running a hand over the back of his neck. He hears a soft click, and looks to see Castiel is gone.

“Go on, cher.” Benny smiles—if only he knew how impossible that would be. Still, Dean thanks his friend, knowing he meant well. Collecting his courage, he heads back into the theater. He resolutely keeps his eyes glued to the screen, and it isn’t till the end of the movie—as the lights are starting to come up—that he notices Inias never did put his hand back on Cas.

Dean and Sam make their way out to the entrance, and he breathes in the cool spring night air, hoping it clears his head a bit. He feels a tug on his jacket sleeve and sees Sam pulling him to a stop. “I forgot my jacket—I’ll be right back.”

“Yeah, cool. I’ll meet you over there since I parked in the back lot.” Sam grins, bouncing back through the crowd trying not to bump into anyone. Dean pops his collar up and moves out of the way and to the side of the building to wait, leaning up against the hard brick and watching the groups of people as they thin out. He doesn’t see Cas, which is probably for the best, despite the ache he feels. He isn’t sure what he would do if he saw Castiel go home with Inias, or worse…bring him home. He cringes at the very thought, swallowing down the thick feeling in his throat and letting his eyes slip closed a moment.

Hearing the sound of feet approaching, he lets out a long breath. “Took you long enough.” Dean looks up to find Sam but is greeted instead by five sets of unfamiliar eyes. He looks at their faces a moment, and he realizes it's the same group from earlier—the ones who catcalled him in front of Benny.

“Hey, the needy little omega slut is waiting for us.” One of the guys chuckles and smacks his friend on the back. Dean swallows hard, stepping slowly off the wall as they move in closer.

“Fuck off,” Dean practically spits, feeling his skin prickle and wondering how these guys knew he’s is an omega. 

“You don’t remember me, huh, Winchester?” The dark-haired dude with the goatee replies. Dean studies his face, knowing it’s familiar. “Spanish, junior year?” the guy prompts, and Dean doesn’t miss the way they are all beginning to box him in.

“Paul, right?” Dean guesses, wondering if he should go the friendly route instead of surly. “Look Paul, I got no beef with you, alright? Just walk away.”

He really hopes he doesn’t have to fight these guys. Dean is solid in a fight and he knows how to take a hit, but he has a feeling these guys will kick his ass if it comes to it—or something much worse. 

“You always were a cocky little shit, you know that? Not in school anymore, Dean, but I still think you have a few lessons to learn.” Paul lunges for him, but Dean is ready. He ducks before landing a quick hit to the guy’s kidneys. He shoves off the wall, away from Paul, missing a punch that still grazes his cheek and knocks him back. 

He tries to get his bearings when a guy grabs him from behind. Dean stomps the guy’s foot till he hears a howl, then pulls away. After that it’s a tangle of limbs and thrown punches, and Dean’s heart races as he grapples with the alphas, feeling his lip split and wincing as he’s tossed against the brick wall. He only hopes Sam stays inside—he doesn’t need his brother witnessing any of this. 

There’s a sudden snarling sound as one of the guys goes flying backwards. Dean looks up to see the wild blue eyes of his alpha… 

He’s never felt so relieved and so scared in his life.

“Step away,” Castiel says in a slow, menacing grumble, “from my omega.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Physical violence, including Dean being in a very compromising position that implies attempted rape could occur. Reminder that this story is not tagged for rape/non-con, but sexual violence is an overwhelming concern in Dean's mind. This situation will not be resolved until next chapter, if you'd like to wait! 
> 
> \--
> 
> Okay, here it is, a rite of passage…the first TCB/CB cliffhanger of this fic! Haha. Come share your feelings in the comments.
> 
> P.S. Our lovely BFF EllenOfOz made some artwork for this story. Go check out the banner in chapter 1!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE!! We're dropping this chapter early (technically it's late Tuesday evening here) because we are so, so, so excited about this chapter! Plus, it's pretty damn long, so you've got lots to look forward to. 
> 
> E N J O Y 
> 
> (Content warnings in the end notes.)

Castiel has never considered himself a violent man. 

For years he watched other alphas lose their tempers, witnessed their unhinged, territorial behavior in a way that made him innately uncomfortable. He would see a bunch of alphas getting into a brawl, or an omega cowering around their overbearing mate, and Castiel would be reminded of Jimmy and think— _I made the right decision, never letting myself be attached to anyone._

But once the film’s credits rolled, he had a terrible feeling in his gut—a sudden instinct that he couldn’t ignore. He had all but run outside, searching the exterior for trouble. Now, in the side alley of the movie theater with five alphas eyeing him suspiciously, he realizes that he is good and properly attached to someone now. And that someone is not his current date, who’s standing a few yards behind him, mouth agape. Castiel momentarily forgot that Inias is even still there—because Dean has been pushed against the exterior brick wall, and he’s staring at Castiel with wide eyes filled with panic.

“ _Your_ omega, huh?” asks one of the men—a frizzy, uneven goatee coloring his otherwise pale face. Castiel blinks—had he said that? He knows he threatened them somehow, but can’t recall the specifics. He’s so full of adrenaline right now, his hands shaking at the sight of Dean surrounded by these thugs, that he’s pretty sure he’ll say anything to ensure Dean is safe again. 

“Interesting,” the alpha says, gripping Dean tightly by the jaw, jerking his head around until his neck is exposed, “don’t see no bite, but thanks for the idea. Maybe I’ll just…” He leans forward, licking his lips. Dean struggles vehemently but two of the other alphas pin him on either side, snickering as the chatty alpha leans closer, whispering filth in Dean’s ear. 

What happens next is pure instinct. Castiel’s hand reaches for the back collar of the goateed alpha, wrenching him roughly back with a powerful tug. Castiel is in a decent shape thanks to a combination of genetics and his tendency to exercise through life’s frustration. That, and his biological alpha strength, come in handy as he grabs the alpha roughly and shoves him to the ground. The two pinning Dean to the wall seem surprised, distracted long enough for Dean to break their hold. 

“Get off, motherfuckers!” Dean snarls, pushing one of them away forcefully enough that they stumble. Castiel grabs the other one and slams him into the wall, ready to scare this dumb alpha goon within an inch of his life. But he’s too distracted, his back turned—a mistake he doesn’t realize until he feels a hand reaching for his shoulder. He’s spun around jerkily before a fist connects with his face, his cheek sore and flaming the moment the alpha’s punch lands. He winces, but not for long—he grabs the nearest guy by the open flap of his zip-up jacket, balls up his fist, and slams it into the guy’s soft gut. The alpha coughs wetly, doubling over, distracting his friends long enough that Castiel brings an elbow against another alpha’s sternum. Dean is fighting right alongside him, kneeing the bent-over alpha in a _highly_ sensitive place and then shoving him down to the asphalt. 

Castiel’s good luck runs out then. Even with one of them incapacitated, it’s still difficult to keep four young alphas down for long. One of them runs behind Castiel and locks his arms together, holding him forward and defenseless as the other three take turns punching his face repeatedly. Castiel wheezes a little, tasting blood in his mouth, and kicks his legs out in any direction—attempting to spring himself loose. Dean comes to his aid by knocking one of them onto the ground, but then the fallen alpha grabs Dean by the ankles and tugs, knocking him off-balance. Dean lands on his back with a small, indignant squawk before the alpha straddles him, reaching his hands around Dean’s throat and squeezing. 

“Dean!” Castiel shouts, heart pounding in his ears as sweat gathers at his temple. Dean is slamming his hand against the alpha’s grip, fighting for air. Castiel begins to panic properly now as another punch lands against his jaw. He has to do something, he has to save Dean…

The alpha restraining him scoots closer, likely feeling Castiel’s desperation to spring free. Taking advantage of the new positioning, Castiel slams his head back unexpectedly. He feels the back of his head collide with a row of solid teeth, and the alpha swears loudly and drops his arms. Castiel takes a swing at the guy on his left, missing him by a few inches but moving steadily enough to make him stumble. He’s not worried about his own fight, though—he’s worried about Dean—and he shoves at the nasty-looking alpha pinning Dean down by the hips. Castiel’s rage is practically blinding at this point, knowing that his eyes are glowing a fierce, luminescent blue as he snarls at the alpha and flings him aside. 

The moment Dean is free, Castiel extends his arm and Dean takes it, pulling himself up. They stand there closely, shoulder to shoulder, for a few panting moments. Dean’s injuries aren’t significant, thank god, but it’s enough to make Castiel’s heart leap out of his chest. His bottom lip is bloody, and Castiel cups his hand against Dean’s jaw, looking at his beautiful, unblemished neck. He thinks about that alpha who almost bit Dean, his lips nearly brushing Dean’s skin, and he lets out a territorial growl. He rubs his nose against the omega’s neck, licking his lips and breathing heavily as he invades Dean’s personal space. Castiel curses himself—thanks to the prescription-strength blockers he has his staff wear, he can’t smell Dean’s gorgeous omega scent. He’s never scented Dean, in fact, and his body vibrates with longing for it. Dean whimpers softly, stretching his neck to give Castiel more space to mark him. It takes Cas a moment to come to full awareness of what exactly he’s doing, but when he does, he takes a step back—face flaming red. 

Did he really just try to mark Dean with his scent? 

“Shoulda known you were already ass-up for some rich, old alpha, Winchester,” the goateed alpha says nastily, turning his head spitting out blood. “I’m not the only one who knew you’d look real pretty stretched around a knot.”

Castiel growls lowly in his throat, his vision returned to red. His face is swelling, his ribs hurt, and the taste of blood is tangy in his mouth—but he’s ready for a second round if that’s what’s required. Before he can lunge at them, he feels Dean put a solid hand against his chest, holding him in place. Castiel’s eyes widen, trying to understand Dean’s motivation when he squats down low, messing with his boot. When he stands back up he’s opening a pocket knife, pointing it menacingly in the other alphas’ direction. 

“The next time I see any of you dickheads around,” he begins in a husky, threatening whisper, “I’m gonna let my knife do the talking. Get the fuck outta here. Now.”

They throw a last round of curses and slurs in Dean’s direction, before eventually turning and walking slowly back down the alley and out of sight. Castiel exhales steadily after they go, which turns into a coughing fit. Dean’s worried face hovers close to his. 

“Hey, you okay?” he asks in a small voice, patting his back. “You look… Do you need a doctor?”

Castiel chuckles at himself self-deprecatingly and shakes his head. He never expected to get into a street fight with five alphas over a decade younger than him, and can only imagine how swollen and bloody his face must look. “No, I’m fine. Let’s just go home.”

Their arms are looped around each other as they turn, supporting one another’s weight as they walk back towards the main street. Inias is still standing there, though, to Castiel’s immense surprise. 

“Thanks for the help,” Dean snaps sarcastically, glaring openly at the beta. 

“What?” Inias asks, mouth gaping. “What do I owe you? I barely know you!”

“Not me, dumbass. I meant _Cas_ ,” Dean shoots back viciously. “Or do you have a habit of letting your dates get punched in the face?”

Inias looks momentarily guilty before snapping back, “Well, usually my dates don’t publicly claim _someone else_ right in front of me.”

Castiel winces, both from Inias’ words and a sudden pounding in his head. 

“That was, uh…” Dean scratches the back of his neck, blushing furiously. “That was nothing. Cas was just getting me outta trouble.” 

All Castiel wants is to get home, check Dean’s injuries, then surround himself with painkillers while relaxing in his rather spacious bathtub. He’s tired, and though he could claim he came to Dean’s aid simply because he’s his employee and it was the right thing to do, he’s done lying to himself. He’s done pretending.

“I’m sorry, Inias,” he says somberly, figuring it’s safest just to leave it at that. 

Inias just glares at Dean, then softens a bit when he sees the remorse on Castiel’s face. 

“Do you need a ride home?” he asks quietly.

Before Cas can answer, Dean has placed a hand on the center of his back and is pushing him forward. “Nope, got it covered. C’mon…” He grabs Castiel by the wrist and drags him along, back toward the theater entrance. “We gotta get Sammy, then I’m taking you home.” 

_Home._ Castiel feels dazed a little, his eyes watering and vision blurry. He thinks about how it felt tucking his face against Dean’s neck, how thrilling and comforting and natural their proximity felt. In a very real and terrifying way, that gorgeous patch of skin reminded him more of home than his estate ever did.

***

It’s well past ten o’clock when Castiel lowers himself into a chair, wincing audibly. Apart from Dean, the rest of his staff seems to be gone for the evening or asleep, but there’s still a log burning low in the fireplace, casting the room in a soft orange glow. The calming presence of the fire is at complete contrast to Dean buzzing around the kitchen frantically, searching for Ellen’s store of bandages and antiseptic spray. 

“Is there a first-aid kit?” Sam asks Dean in a quiet voice, but it’s Castiel who answers. 

“The utility closet in the east wing,” he wheezes, looking down at his button-up shirt with a frown. He liked this shirt, but now it’s unsalvageable—streaked with blood and dirt, the cuffs and collars stretched out and torn. He hears Sam’s footsteps head in the direction of the east wing, and Dean spins around and leans against the kitchen counter, head in his hands. 

“Dean,” Castiel says softly. “Can you come here?”

Dean lifts his head, his eyes shiny and unfocused. He moves stiffly to the table, pauses momentarily to decide where to sit. To Castiel’s surprise, he kneels on the floor in front of Castiel and begins unbuttoning his shirt. 

“What are you…?” The sight of Dean between his legs is much more distracting than it should be, and he clears his throat and glances up at the ceiling to avoid getting aroused. 

“Gotta see the damage, don’t I?” Dean replies in a low rumble. When he’s done finagling all the buttons, he stares at Castiel’s bare abdomen as he slips the shirt sleeves off. Castiel hisses through his teeth, a throbbing pain in his shoulder blades.

“Sorry, sorry,” Dean whispers, balling up the soiled shirt and discarding it at their feet. Then his hands are roaming Castiel’s skin, touching every bruise tenderly. It’s more intimate than clinical, and Castiel wants to say something, anything, but his words are caught in his throat. 

When Dean speaks again, it’s with a shaky, breathless chuckle. “You stupid, reckless alpha.”

This isn’t the reaction from Dean that Castiel expected, not at all, and his eyebrows shoot up. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Dean grumbles, looking at him with unapologetic frustration. “I could’ve handled that—”

“No, you couldn’t have,” Castiel interrupts hotly. “Dean, it was five against one—”

“I’ve won worse,” Dean snaps. “Hell, Cas, I carry a knife everywhere I go. I’ve knocked more alphas out cold than I can count. Do you think I learned to fight like that in PE class?”

Castiel swallows. “Dean…”

“When I presented as omega,” Dean says in an uneven voice, “well, let’s just say my dad wasn’t thrilled. Nothing prepares you for dealing with dickhead alphas as well as John Winchester’s right hook.”

Anger spreads through Castiel’s limbs, his heart pounding with rage again. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Dean doesn’t need another angry alpha right now—he needs comfort. 

“I’m so sorry.” Castiel takes a chance and touches Dean’s cheek, resting his hand there as he speaks. “I’m sorry that your father mistreats you, and that other alphas are often so vile. It sickens me to think of the abuse you’ve experienced.” 

Dean looks down at his thighs, leaning into Castiel’s touch as his eyelashes flutter against his skin. He breathes deeply, waiting for Castiel to continue.

“But I won’t be sorry for interceding tonight,” Castiel says firmly, and Dean’s head snaps back up. “I would rather your pride be hurt than see a single hair on your head be harmed. And if that makes me stupid or reckless, then I suppose I’m both, but I will never regret taking care of you.”

Dean’s gaze softens, his green eyes sparkling with an emotion Castiel can’t name. Dean licks his lips, jaw still pressed into Castiel’s palm, and opens his mouth to speak. 

That’s when they hear, “Hey, so I found this—”

Sam stops in the kitchen threshold, a first-aid box swinging from his hand. He raises his eyebrows at Dean with an amused smirk on his face, and Castiel realizes how this must look—he’s shirtless, Dean is on his knees between an alpha’s opened legs, all while Castiel is cradling the omega’s face in his hand. Dean blushes and rises to his feet, not meeting his brother’s eye when he says, “Uh, yeah, thanks, Sammy.”

“No problem,” Sam says, letting a little huffed chuckle. “Just glad you’re both okay. I can’t believe those guys tried to jump you.”

Dean plasters on a smile full of false bravado, and Castiel wonders if Sam can see right through it, too. “Nah, I’m not. My reputation as a badass fighter precedes me, is all.”

On the drive home, Dean had very pointedly not told Sam the truth about his secondary gender being the primary factor in the alphas targeting Dean. Castiel was too distracted by his injuries to add much to the explanation, and though he figures it’s not his place, he wonders if Dean is trying too hard to shelter Sam. He’s not a little kid anymore—he’s sixteen and due to present any day now. Regardless of his gender designation, he needs to be fully prepared to live and function in their flawed society. 

Still, Castiel understands Dean’s hesitation in being honest with just _how_ serious this evening’s events were. If Castiel hadn’t been there, or if Dean had been less equipped to handle an attack, the encounter could’ve been traumatic in ways Cas hates to imagine.

“Yeah, okay Superman,” Sam says with a sarcastic eye roll. “Well, thanks for today, Dean. It’s the best birthday I’ve had in forever.”

Dean’s smile this time is completely genuine when he says, “Good, I’m glad. Now go rot your brain with video games and I’ll meet you at the suite in a bit.”

“Okay,” Sam says, the gleam in his eye returning as he looks between Dean and Cas. “No rush with _whatever_ you need to do. I’m probably just gonna read in bed. I got all those new books today at Barnes and Noble.”

Dean shakes his head good-naturedly and mumbles, “Where did I go wrong?”

As much as Castiel enjoys watching the Winchesters and their banter, his mouth is suddenly cotton dry, his sides aching with the presence of bruises. He tries to stand and grab himself a glass of water, but Dean spots him out of the corner of his eye and runs to him immediately. 

“Hey, none of that,” he says softly, as Sam calls out _get better soon!_ and heads out of the kitchen. “Sorry, I’m a crappy nurse. Whaddya need?”

“You’re doing fine,” Castiel wheezes. “If anything, I should be taking care of that lip.”

Dean blushes, touching his split lip and shrugging. “Nah, s’nothing. Sammy already made me clean up the worst of it.”

Castiel nods approvingly. They’ve only been home for about five minutes, but Dean is already looking significantly better now that he’s washed the blood from his face and hands. Between them, Castiel thankfully bears the brunt of the injuries. He knows he should head upstairs and take care of himself, but just the thought of climbing the grand staircase makes his body ache. 

“Still, I’d like you to use a cold compress to help with swelling.”

Dean rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Bossy bossy. But okay.” He leans against the counter, arms crossed. “What do _you_ need, Cas? And no more of this self-sacrificing, ‘I’m okay,’ martyr crap.”

Castiel gives him a weary smile. “Water? Pain killers?”

Dean obliges instantly, watching dutifully as Castiel swallows down the strongest over-the-counter meds they have. The water tastes so good that he drinks the glass in a few gulps, and Dean refills the glass and sets it on the table again. Then he kneels back down and really goes to work. He retrieves a washcloth, wets it with soap and water, and begins washing the blood off Castiel’s cracked knuckles. It feels so soothing to be touched like this—warm and gentle and cleansing—tended to with such affection, that it makes Castiel’s eyelids feel heavy. 

“Sorry I ruined your date,” Dean mumbles out of nowhere, and Castiel cracks his eyes open again. Dean is rubbing various creams against the cuts on Castiel’s hands, working quietly, though there’s a frown on his face now.

“You didn’t,” Castiel says honestly. 

“Really?”

“Really. Let’s just say…it wasn’t the most successful love match even before we ran into you.”

Dean reaches towards the first-aid kit, and when he turns back around, he has gauze and bandages in his hands _and_ a poorly masked smirk on his face. 

“I’d say sorry, but I’m not,” he says bluntly. “That guy was a total pansy. If you looked up ‘boring’ in the dictionary you’d just find a portrait of what’s-his-name…Ivan? Ian?” 

“Inias,” Castiel corrects with a snort, shaking his head ruefully. “Well, what about you?”

Dean begins to wrap Cas’ hands tenderly with the wrap, but pauses long enough to shoot Castiel a curious look. “What about me?”

“You looked pretty enamored with the man working concessions,” Castiel grumbles, trying not to sound every bit the jealous alpha that he is. 

Dean just grins. “Huh, I wasn’t sure you noticed…”

It takes Castiel a moment—he was practically beaten to a pulp this evening, after all—before Dean’s tone finally clicks in his mind. “Are you being sarcastic?”

Dean laughs then, a soft and genuine chuckle. “Uh, yeah. You were not subtle, Cas. Pretty sure Benny was behind the counter shitting his pants.” 

Castiel feels a flood of embarrassment fill him, his cheeks flushing red. “I apologize,” Castiel mumbles. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately.”

They’re silent for another moment after that, both _knowing_ what’s gotten into Cas lately but neither want to discuss it. Finally, when Dean moves on from Castiel’s hands and begins to run a warm, wet washcloth over his dirty cheeks, he whispers, “Don’t be sorry.”

He grazes the washcloth over Castiel’s face with such gentle swipes, all Castiel can do is close his eyes and breathe. When the cloth reaches his lips, Dean dabs the moisture down and around his mouth, and Castiel’s breathing hitches in his throat. This is absurd—they’ve never done anything but hold hands momentarily in the library, but Castiel feels more connected to Dean than he ever felt toward previous sexual partners. 

“Cas,” Dean whispers gently, as if rousing him awake, “hey, let’s get you to bed.”

Castiel allows himself to be pulled upwards, and Dean takes on the majority of his weight as they ascend the grand staircase. The journey is slow and rough and Castiel thinks he really ought to call his doctor in the morning and request stronger pain relievers. He isn’t sure how far or serious Dean is going to take his job as caretaker, but he receives his answer when the omega steers Castiel to his bed, dropping him carefully onto the mattress. He unties Castiel’s shoes, strips his socks, and even slips off his jeans when Castiel struggles to lift his hips enough. 

In less than five minutes, Cas is just lying there in his boxers, the room heavy with his scent, and Dean’s chest is rising and falling at a rapid rate.

“Dean,” Castiel mumbles quietly. “Would you…would you sit and talk with me? Just until I fall asleep?”

It’s a terrible idea, he knows that, but he’s not ready to say goodnight to Dean just yet. 

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up and he scratches the back of his neck. “Cas, I’m not sure…”

“I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” Castiel promises, and Dean scoffs dramatically. 

“It’s not you I’m worried about, doofus. You’re annoyingly in-control,” he says with a snort. “But me? Well…you’re lying there basically naked, your amazing fucking scent all over the place… I might be an omega, but underneath all that I’m still just a _guy_ , y’know.”

Castiel grins, thoroughly flattered—despite knowing that he shouldn’t be crossing so many boundaries this evening. He just can’t seem to stop himself when a certain green-eyed omega is involved. 

“I believe in you, Dean,” he says playfully. 

The omega sighs and shakes his head, but then toes off his boots and lines them up by the bedpost. He cautiously sits on the empty side of Castiel’s bed, hands clasped nervously in his lap, staring straight ahead. 

“So…” Dean begins anxiously. “Whatcha wanna talk about?”

Castiel racks his brain for a topic, a valid explanation for why he’s wanting Dean beside him. He’s not sure what he’s going to say, not completely, when he blurts out, “I owe you an explanation.”

That catches Dean’s attention and he turns fully now, his eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

Castiel nods somberly, turning his body stiffly so he can better face Dean. Dean notices his wince of pain and puts his hands on Castiel’s hips, helping him along. He settles down onto the pillow until they’re facing each other, Dean’s hand lingering on Cas’ hip a moment too long. 

“I’m listening,” Dean says breathlessly, wetting his lips. The intensity of it—his eyes, his voice, his knees brushing against Castiel’s as they whisper in bed—is nearly too much to handle. 

“This won’t be a…fun conversation,” Castiel warns, and Dean frowns a little but nods in understanding. “Can I tell you about Jimmy?”

Dean nods again, eager this time, and Castiel breathing speeds up minutely. He hasn’t told this story in years, and is not even sure where to begin. 

“We were identical twins. But when we presented during our junior year of high school, I was an alpha and he was an omega,” Castiel says levely, finding a spot on his comforter and staring at it pointedly. “That’s unusual for twins, but my family took it surprisingly well. He used blockers constantly, of course, and we had money—which meant Jimmy wouldn’t have to face the same sort of persecution you do. At least, not blatantly.” 

Dean just stares at him engagingly, encouraging him to go on. 

“Jimmy was always more…sickly, I suppose, between the two of us. When we both caught colds, his would turn into pneumonia. He broke more bones growing up than I can count.” A wistful smile falls on Cas’ face as he recalls Jimmy, donned in a cap with underwear pulled up over his pants, attempted to fly out of a tree. He had always been such a dreamer. 

“We really couldn’t have been more different. Where Jimmy was warm and well-loved by everyone, I was hopelessly awkward. I struggled to make friends, but Jimmy helped me along and made me feel connected to the world. He loved art and music and movies, while I was busy planning my first capital venture.” Castiel shakes his head, and Dean offers him a small smile. “Jimmy was full of color while I was living in black and white.”

Dean purses his lips like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t—just fluffs the pillow and leans in closer. 

“It was no surprise to me, then, to see Jimmy fall in love young. Amelia was a kind, free-spirited alpha he met the summer before our senior year. They immediately became inseparable and wanted to become mated, but as you know, legally you have to be eighteen before mating. Besides, my parents would technically have to sign away Jimmy’s contract to Amelia, and I figured that would never happen.” 

Castiel chuckles darkly, the corners of his eyes feeling wet. “But somehow, it did happen. My parents agreed to sign my brother’s contract away, and then, Amelia legally owned him.”

Dean shivers quietly, eyes wide. “Jesus.”

Castiel nods, expression a deep-set frown. “Luckily Amelia was wonderful, and they were very much in love. They mated and married almost immediately, much to my horror—” Dean grins a little and Castiel mirrors his expression. “—and they were happy for a short time.”

Dean reaches between them, grasping Castiel’s bandaged hand gently. “How short?”

“Six months.” Castiel tries not to notice how shakey his voice becomes. “Six months, then Amelia was hit by a drunk driver one night. She died at the scene.” Castiel lets his eyes fill with unshed tears, the ache in his chest growing. “My brother was…inconsolable. I had never seen him like that, not once. He was drowning in his grief, and no amount of meds or doctors or quality time together could help him. His mate had died prematurely and he wasn’t strong enough to survive her loss. His withdrawals turned to illness, and within weeks his heart was weak, his organs shutting down slowly…”

A tear travels from the corner of Castiel’s eyes, rolling down his cheek. Dean leans forward with his free hand, stroking the smudged tear-tract with his thumb. “God, Cas, I am so sorry.”

Castiel closes his eyes, letting the feeling of Dean’s hand clasped around his face calm him down. “I know you are. I’m reminded of Jimmy often, actually, when I look at you and Sam. There’s a bond there that most people won’t understand, but I do.”

Dean’s hand travels from his wet cheek, to petting his forehead, his hair. “I didn’t even know that…that something like that could happen to an alpha or omega. Dying of a broken heart, I mean.”

Castiel looks up at the ceiling, breathing deeply. “It’s rare, but not impossible…particularly for true mates, which Jimmy was convinced Amelia was his.”

“True mates?” Dean shakes his head skeptically. “Cas, man, that’s a fairytale.”

Castiel shrugs. “I don’t know. All I know is that I researched cures for two months straight, trying to find a way to save my brother, and I…” He swallows down the lump forming in his throat. “I failed.”

“Hey,” Dean breathes, and Castiel scoots up closer, their foreheads on the verge of touching. “Listen to me, okay? That wasn’t your fault. The whole thing was beyond shitty, and I’m not gonna tell you you’ll get over it one day, because hell if I ever would. But you can’t carry all that guilt around. Jimmy made his own decision—it had nothing to do with you.”

“Him _and_ my parents, you mean,” Castiel says darkly, filled with the familiar sense of indignation. “I was angry at all of them for a very long time. I barely speak to my parents, even now.” 

“I get it…I probably wouldn’t either.” Dean nods companionably, still smoothing Cas’ hair down with his fingers. 

“So now, you’re one of the few people who knows,” Castiel says in an even tone, “and you understand why I’ve never been with an omega before.”

Dean scrunches his eyebrows together. “I dunno… I mean, you said Jimmy was already pretty weak, and that deaths like this are rare.” He bites his lip nervously. “Aren’t the chances of that happening again super slim?”

It’s a logical argument, Castiel knows, because he’s heard it for his entire adult life. Since the age of seventeen, when he vowed to never seek a mate ever, especially not an omega. 

“Whatever the chances, I’m still not willing to risk another person’s life,” Castiel says decisively, thinking, _especially not yours._

Dean shakes his head furiously. “You can’t think about it like that, man. Besides, aren’t some things—” Dean takes a deep breath, his fingers pausing on Castiel’s temple. “Or _some people_ , worth taking risks for?”

Dean’s gaze burns like the hearth in the kitchen—steady and soft. Castiel’s heart aches to close the gap between them, to touch every inch of Dean’s body angled towards him. He wants to kiss him, to embrace him, to make him feel good. 

He also wants to keep him alive. 

He coughs sharply then, sitting up in bed and grimacing as his body aches. Dean’s face is full of concern as he slides a water glass into Castiel’s empty hand, watching as he chugs. Cas sighs, passing the cup back to Dean to return, then settles further into his pillows. 

“I can barely keep my eyes open,” he admits with a heavy yawn, and Dean gives him a small, affectionate smile. 

“Well, get some rest,” Dean announces, seeming to agree that the rest of this conversation can wait for Castiel to sleep and recover. “C’m’here.”

He pulls Castiel to his chest, cradling the back of his head like he’s something precious to protect. The idea makes Castiel baulk, but Dean’s chest is solid and warm, his hands soothing and soft as they hold Castiel tightly. It’s the closest to content that Castiel has felt in a long time—like he’s finally exactly where he needs to be. 

When he wakes up some time later, his head is pounding, his alarm clock reveals that it’s nearly four in the morning. To his disappointment, Dean is no longer in his bed. Castiel reaches across to the empty side, the sheets cold to the touch, and he wonders what in the world he’s going to do about his mounting fixation on the gorgeous, green-eyed omega, Dean Winchester. 

*** 

Dean heads toward Sam’s room, peeking his head inside. It's been two weeks since the incident at the movie theater, but Dean can’t seem to get out of his own head. Sam had actually accused him of brooding the other day. 

He looks to see Sam sprawled out on his bed, headphones in and hunched over a set of notes. He’s growing taller by the day, his sweatpants already up by his ankles. Even though Dean is anything but a typical omega—thanks to his height and build—it still gives him hope. Maybe his brother will be a beta, and not have to deal with all this shit. 

He manages to sneak out without being noticed, and checks the time. It's only eight o’clock, which really isn’t that late. He glances at himself in the mirror, quickly seeing the split lip that's basically healed. The bruise on his cheekbone is a faint, yellow color now. He’d hidden the other bruises from Castiel, and even Sam—like the fingerprint bruises that lined his arms, or the especially pretty bruise by his kidney. Those were mostly faded now, and didn’t even hurt when he poked them.

Not bothering with shoes, he pads down the hallway toward the library. It’s become a nightly ritual for him now, going to the library. He checks to make sure it’s empty before heading in. He only flicks on the small desk lamp and then moves over to the biology section, where he left off. He has to climb the ladder a bit, but he finds the book he’s looking for, pulling it down and heading to the table where Sam normally does his homework.

The cover is sleek, _Biology of Mated Pairs_ , and has a garden on the cover which Dean can’t make sense of. At this point, he’s been through most of the books in the library about true mates that he can find. Most seem fairly well read, pages highlighted and notes taken. He isn’t really surprised that Castiel had researched so thoroughly the circumstances that killed his brother. It's funny, in a way—reading these books and following in his footsteps makes Dean feel closer to the alpha. 

Cas has been strange around Dean the last few weeks, walking on eggshells almost. He hasn’t touched Dean once since the night of the fight. Not a hand on his shoulder or a brush of fingers across the desk. It’s making Dean’s skin itch—he’d taken those subtle touches for granted before. Castiel is holding him even more at arm’s length now, and it’s driving him a little crazy. It's not like the alpha had been hugging him everyday—the touches had been small, but their absence felt huge.

Dean just needs to suck it up. It's not like he isn’t used to it. His family isn’t exactly the touchy-feely kind, and he’s sure he can count on one hand the number of times his dad hugged him. Still, when Cas touched him it was electric…made his skin tingle, and awoke something deep in his chest. A longing.

He flips the book open and finds the already marked up pages. Lately, he’s beginning to feel like his health class was sadly lacking in useful information. He skims his way through the text, remembering why he hated school so much, before finally landing on a good part:

_True mates, while rare, tend to report similar symptoms upon finding their match. Scent bonding can be one of the first signs. While any omega and alpha pair can exchange scents, with a true mate pair it can happen much easier, and even without the aid of continual touch (note: certain scent blockers can hinder this natural bonding). Another common symptom can be sensing of emotions, as this advantage is only ever seen in blood family or true-mated pairs. It is thought that this link offered pairs a survival advantage. There is anecdotal evidence that true-mated pairs can even sense when their fellow mate is in danger or in distress from great distances. This is only noted in pairs that have some kind of established scent bond._

_It takes a blood bond to finalize a true-pair mating. While this can be done with the bite of an alpha for the omega, it is strongest if there is also an omega bite on the alpha as well. This kind of bonding can have a dramatic effect on the internal biology of the pair. The connection can become much more powerful than a typical mated pair. While there have been evolutionary advantages true mated pairs have, there have been drawbacks as well._

_Bond breaking can have catastrophic results for the mated pair. Breaking of the bond can occur in many ways. Mate rejection can result in mate sickness, which has even been recorded in pairs that have not completed a full bonding. Symptoms include abdominal pain, loss of appetite, insomnia, body aches, scent souring, and depression. While these symptoms can be painful, they are not usually life-threatening (though suicide rates in rejected mates is above average compared to the rest of the population). Mate sickness can become fatal when there is a death in a mated pair, though this is not always the case and tends to depend on the general health of the surviving mate prior to the incident. Often the surviving mate will be in intense pain, unable to eat or function, and seems to be coupled with a weakening of the heart._

Dean sees a small note made near the bottom of the page in a now familiar script: _better pain than death._ The note looks newer than some of the others, and it's in a blue pen while the rest are in black. He wonders if Cas has read this recently. Was he thinking of Jimmy…or was he thinking of Dean? His chest tightens, and he gets that familiar ache in his gut. He thinks about the symptoms of mate rejection. He hasn’t stopped eating…well, he may not be as hungry as he normally is, but he isn’t starving. His stomach is likely just bothering him from worry over his brother. Dean’s never been a good sleeper, so how is he supposed to tell if he has insomnia now? Shaking off those suspicions, he continues reading.

_Some scientists don’t believe that true mates exist, so much as they are individuals who have extreme reactions to forming mating bonds. Regular mate bonds are incredibly common for omegas and alphas, and can often break with minimal physical side effects. In a typical mate bond, it can take up to a year for the scent bond to dissipate and a new bond can be formed. With what the general population considers to be true mates, this scent bond is never truly broken. It’s rare for other bonds to form in its place._

_There have been a few cases of mate challenges involving true mates. Evidence being anecdotal at best, due to the rarity of the event, an omega of a true mate pair can be claimed by a challenging alpha if the pair hasn’t blood bonded yet. The blood bond of the challenging alpha will supercede the true mate alpha. It should be noted that this union can result in mate sickness, and it is incredibly rare for a mating of this nature to result in a strong bond or offspring. Statistically, only one in every million alpha or omegas have a true mate pairing. It’s thought only around one in two million ever actually find each other and solidify their bond._

Dean huffs out a long breath, pushing the book away from himself. It’s simply too implausible. The chances are just so slim… It has to be a normal level of attraction that he’s feeling. It can’t be _this_. 

The door to the library creaks open, making him jump a little, head jerking up to see who’s coming in. Kevin’s head pops around the door, spotting Dean.

“Hey, mind if I join you?” Kevin asks, carrying his laptop and a bag of chips.

“Free mansion.” Dean chuckles, gesturing toward the table. He’s a bit relieved _and_ saddened it wasn’t Cas.

“What ya reading?” Kevin asks, twirling the book around and looking at the cover. “Oh, I remember this book. I ordered it for Castiel years ago. One of the most up-to-date texts out there.”

Dean nods, not really sure what to say after being caught reading about true mates. He feels a little foolish. Kevin pops open the bag of chips and seems to watch Dean as he offers him some. Dean shakes his head, not feeling hungry, then he remembers what the book says about appetite changes… 

He reaches forward for a few chips, stuffing them in his face. They don’t taste very good, but he chokes them down.

“So, what's got you reading biology books at this hour? Did you think about taking those online classes I showed you?” Kevin asks, obviously offering Dean an excuse for reading this book.

“Um, yeah…just thought I’d check out different subjects, see if anything was interesting.” He shrugs, feeling his shoulders relax at the easy lie. Honestly, he hasn’t thought much about school. Castiel had offered to pay for any classes he wants, and Kevin had shown him so many online websites that they all just blurred together. Charlie keeps sending him links to computer programming courses, usually along with a funny cat meme.

“That text is pretty dense. You know we have a microbiology lab at our office in Austin… If you’re really interested, I’m sure Cas would let you take a trip down there see what it's like,” Kevin offers, opening up his laptop.

“No, I don’t think science is gonna be for me.” Dean shakes his head quickly.

Kevin seems to let it go, shrugging and turning his attention back to his computer. Dean gently takes the text off the table and heads to put it back on the shelf. After two weeks, he thinks he’s reached the end of books on the subjects of mates that Castiel has—which is saying something. His fingers linger a little on the spines of the books, wishing they could tell him what Castiel is thinking.

“Think I’m gonna call it a night,” he says, rubbing a hand across his stomach to soothe the mild ache there.

“Get some rest, man. Hey, we’re still doing that _Lord of the Rings_ marathon next weekend, right?”

Dean smiles, having forgotten the plan. He’s still working his way through the first book, but damn if he doesn’t already love the movies. “Yeah, of course. Extended cut and everything.”

“Awesome.” Kevin smiles, and Dean waves as he heads back to his suite. Dean spends another restless night staring at his ceiling, trying not to think of a blue-eyed alpha.

***

Come Saturday morning, he’s dog tired. Kevin, Sam, and Jo decide to head into the city to go to some craft fair, and Alfie is driving. They invite him along, but he still has chores to do and isn’t really feeling like being social. He knows Kevin and Jo will keep his brother safe, anyway. Jo may be short, but she’s still all alpha and not to be messed with. Still, Dean thinks those guys at the movies had rattled him a little more than he was willing to admit. He had insisted Sam bring a knife with him if he was going out in a big crowd like that.

The house is eerily quiet while he cleans. Castiel’s office door is shut, though he can hear the alpha moving around in there. He decides Cas is likely best left alone. He finds a note from Missouri and Ellen—they went out to run errands for the afternoon. He finishes his chores in record time, despite his general exhaustion and achy feeling. He’s finally sitting down at the kitchen table to have a second cup of coffee when he spots Joshua outside. The man is struggling to push a very full wheelbarrow of mulch across the yard.

Dean jumps up from the table, leaving his coffee and hurries outside to help. It’s a gray day outside, with rain clouds rolling in from the east. At least it's one of the warmer days thus far. 

“Can I help?” he calls as he approaches Joshua, who has stopped to catch his breath.

“Oh, hello Dean. You didn’t head to the fair with the others?” the older man asks with that same warm smile.

“No, I had some things to get done,” he answers with his half-truth, knowing Cas would have been fine with him going. “You just laying down mulch?”

“That's the look of it. If you wanna help, there’s a pair of gloves in the shed ‘round back.”

He nods, thinking this is exactly what he needs to take his mind off Castiel. He puts on the gloves, insisting on pushing the wheelbarrow around the garden to each new spot as they work to lay down the mulch. The smell of the freshly shaved wood fills his lungs, reminding him a little of the alpha…but he lets himself enjoy it. He watches Joshua work, wondering about the man. Did he ever have a family? Has he always been here?

“Can I ask—how long have you worked for Castiel?” he finally says, breaking the silence.

“Oh, a very long time. I worked for his father, Chuck, before he moved away. I stayed on when Castiel came to live here full-time.”

“Why did they leave?” he asks, tossing another shovel-full of mulch at the base of the nearest tree. “Was it…y’know, ‘cause of Jimmy?”

Joshua’s eyebrows shoot up, as if he can’t believe Dean’s already heard about what happened to Castiel’s twin. 

“Yes, they left when Jimmy passed. Didn’t want to be around all these memories. I think Castiel came here for the opposite reason…not wanting to forget.” There’s a kind of melancholy in Joshua's voice.

“What was Jimmy like?” Dean has wondered so much about the man ever since Cas confessed to him.

“He was spirited, a people pleaser. It was impossible not to like Jimmy. He lived a wholehearted life, wasn’t afraid of anything.” Joshua smiles, as if remembering. “His loss was very hard on all of us.”

“Sorry,” Dean says quietly, hoping he didn’t upset the kind man.

“Don’t be, it's nice to talk about him. Remember easier times.”

Dean nods in understanding and they continue on with their work. It's getting late when they finally finish, and the sky is turning darker by the second. 

“Why don’t you go inside? I’ll put the tools away,” Dean offers, looking up at the rolling gray clouds and smells the almost electric scent in the air.

“If you're sure…I think my muscles could use a bit of a rest. Not as young as I used to be.” Joshua smiles, patting Dean's arm. 

“He’ll come around, son. He just takes time,” Joshua adds before he turns to leave. Dean stares at his retreating form, wondering if his drooling over Castiel is obvious to everyone in the house. He wishes he could believe Joshua, but he’s fairly certain Castiel isn’t going to change his mind. Dean puts the wheelbarrow away, wiping his bare, dirty hands on his white shirt. As he collects up the tools, the sky opens up with a loud crack as a sheet of rain quickly begins to soak him. He hurries to put the tools away, blinking the water out of his eyes and feeling his shirt clinging to his skin. He can’t find where they left the last few trowels, and ends up running around the garden for a few minutes till he finally finds them. Completely drenched, he makes a mad dash back to the house. He kicks off his muddy shoes and pads barefoot into the still house.

He shivers a moment, catching his breath and shaking the water out of his hair. Breathing in deep, he smells his own familiar scent mixing with the smell of wood and rain. He wrings out his shirt a little, but decides it’s pointless and carefully moves toward his room.

“Dean, is that you?” 

He hears Castiel’s familiar rumble, and turns to see the alpha standing in the hallway. “You’re all wet.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Dean huffs a laugh. “It's raining out.”

Castiel frowns a moment, and Dean takes the chance to look at him in his weekend clothes—a soft blue button up, untucked with a pair of dark wash jeans. It practically makes his mouth water, just imagining all that alpha muscle underneath. He’s especially glad to see the black eye is almost gone now, so the rest is likely healing as well. He bites his lower lip to stop from saying anything he would regret about that body and what he wants to do with it. Looking back up, he sees Castiel’s eyes are blown wide, mouth slightly parted and body tensed.

“Cas?” he asks cautiously, seeing a fierce glow in his eyes. He can’t possibly be having another rut so soon. “Feeling okay there?”

“Omega,” he whispers softly, and Dean can barely hear him before he’s closing the gap between them and shoving Dean up against the wall.

Dean gasps as he feels the press of Castiel’s lithe body against his own. One hand sinks into Dean’s damp hair, pulling his head to the side as Castiel buries his face in the crook of his neck. Dean squirms as he feels the press of a leg between his own, and god help him as his bowed legs widen easily. Warm lips ghost over his cool damp skin, and he feels the swift intake of breath. 

His blockers are washed off… His blockers are _gone_ and Cas is scenting him for the first time. His whole body shivers—whether from the chill of his damp clothes, or the touch of Castiel’s skin to his own, he doesn’t know.

“Smell so good, mmm,” Castiel practically purrs, rutting forward. Dean lets out an embarrassing whimper as he feels the hard line of the alpha’s cock on his leg. Castiel’s hand tightens in his hair as he noses at the base of his neck, making Dean go mad with want, body already slicking for Castiel.

“Alpha.” Dean can’t keep the words in his chest. The sudden relief of being covered by Castiel feels like it’s coating all his raw nerves, warming him right up from the inside and setting him on fire. “ _Please_ ,” he huffs tentatively, grinding against the thick thigh as his fingers grasp at Castiel’s shoulders. He isn’t even sure what he’s asking for, but he feels the rough stubble on Castiel’s cheeks drag across his own, and suddenly warm soft lips are pressed to his. 

Dean isn’t sure how he hasn’t completely melted into the floor. It feels as if Cas is holding all his weight as he parts his lips, welcoming the alpha in and submitting to him. Castiel licks and kisses into his mouth like a man in the desert finding water, desperate and needy. His whole world has narrowed down to the press of his alpha’s lips upon his own, and he wants to be consumed by this man. His lungs are burning for air, and when they finally pull apart, they’re gasping for breath—foreheads pressed together. Castiel’s hand sinks lower into Dean’s hair and squeezes at the back of his neck, making his knees go weak.

Dean licks his lips, eyes still closed—not daring to open them, to believe that this has not all just been a fever dream. But he can taste his alpha on his tongue and feel his warmth against his cool, damp skin. He’s never felt so scared and so safe in his entire life. Ragged breaths are shared between them, and when he finally opens his eyes, he feels Castiel lift his head away. Fierce and pained blue eyes are staring back at him, and Castiel’s hand reaches up to cradle his face. Dean leans into the touch, reveling in it. Castiel’s thumb brushes over his lower lip, and Dean’s mouth easily parts in offering. He thinks at that moment there is nothing he wouldn’t give to him. 

It's then that a sadness sweeps over the alpha’s face. Dean notices the tightening of his jaw, and feels his world crash in around him as Castiel utters just a few whispered words, “What have I done?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: Physical violence, harassment, intimidation and derogatory behavior 
> 
> \--
> 
> *gasp* 
> 
> Well, there we have it… 
> 
> Come flail with us in the comments!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! TrenchcoatBaby coming at you during a particularly rough week. Early yesterday morning, my city experienced a devastating tornado with lots of lives lost. Friends of mine were directly affected by this storm, and it's just been a really emotional time. If you could send lots of love and [support](https://app.mobilecause.com/f/2oz0/n?vid=5gbnt) Nashville's way, I'd be so grateful.
> 
> Speaking of Nashville, I'll drop some good news, too—CB and I will be attending the [2020 Supernatural convention](https://www.creationent.com/cal/supernatural_nash.htm) in Nashville! Ahhh! Is anyone else going? We are super excited at the prospect of meeting some of our awesome readers, so if you'll be there, shoot me an email so we can meet up: trenchcoatbaby918@gmail.com
> 
> Anywho, enough chattiness. We left you on a cliffhanger, so go ahead and dive in!

It takes Castiel way too much effort to move his hands from Dean’s body—his bottom lip, the back of his neck, it’s all too enticing. He lays his palms flat on the wall, panting heavily as he struggles to keep a clear head. Their hips are still flush together, with Dean pressed against the wall. Despite the creeping guilt, it feels impossible to move away. Having his omega beneath him feels too good, too right.

 _The_ omega, he reminds himself unncessarily, knowing he lost this fight a while ago. Deep down, he’s wanted Dean to be his since the moment he laid eyes on him in Dick Roman’s office.

“I…” Cas swallows, trying to figure out what to say and how to say it. His eyes are glued to Dean’s face, searching for signs of distress. His expression has changed so much over the last few minutes that Castiel isn’t sure how Dean’s feeling about what’s just transpired between them. Just because Dean has shown interest in the past doesn’t mean he wants to get accosted by an aroused, half-crazed alpha in the hallway of his home. 

He knows that logically, but his skin is still burning, his head swimming with all-things Dean. _That scent._ Castiel had walked through the kitchen, convinced someone must be baking the most mouthwatering cinnamon sugar cookies in existence. When he stalked through the kitchen and found it empty, then spotted Dean in the hallway, an urgent need had rolled through him. A craving like nothing he’s ever experienced. 

He wants to take Dean, right here—right now. To tear through that dirty, wet t-shirt with his bare hands. To unbutton Dean’s jeans, strip him, manhandle him until he’s on all fours, then part those beautiful, gorgeous cheeks and _lick_ …

Castiel growls as he pushes himself away, resisting every urge in his body as he gives Dean more space. He slams his back into the opposite wall, giving them a few feet of distance. 

“I’m so sorry, Dean. I…” _I want to stuff you full, want to make you feel good, so good. I want to hear you scream._ “I should go.”

He propels himself off the wall, prepared to flee and brood privately, when he feels a strong grip clasping his forearm. Dean is glaring at him with such hostility that—if Castiel wasn’t an alpha—he’d be tempted to submit. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” Dean says between clenched teeth. The scent of delicious cinnamon turns burnt and smoky, wafting in the air in such strong waves that Castiel struggles to breathe. He can feel Dean’s confusion, his misery, can scent it in the air. “Kiss me, talk to me…just don’t leave me alone right now.”

Castiel feels an overpowering ache in his chest. He wants to help his omega, to make him feel better, but he’s not sure how. He can’t be around Dean without his blockers on, can’t think rationally for even a moment. “Dean…”

“I swear to god if you leave right now, then this, all of it—” Dean points between them with his free hand, his other still clenched to Castiel’s arm. “Is fucking over.”

Castiel can feel his heartbeat pounding out of his chest. There’s a war waging inside of him, one that’s relentless and ongoing. He _should_ leave, should give Dean a chance to be with someone who’s better for him. Maybe a young and happy beta, someone who could be devoted to such a beautiful person without all the baggage. Dean deserves so much more than a jaded, thirty-something alpha who’s too afraid to love. 

Dean chuckles darkly in the silence, shaking his head. He drops his hold on Castiel’s arm, the scent of his unhappiness permeating the hallway and making Castiel nauseous. 

“You know what’s funny? I shoulda just gone with Roman,” Dean mumbles harshly. “Collars and corporal punishment would’ve hurt less than this.”

Castiel gapes at him for a moment, wondering if his heart is splintering in two. And that’s what finally does it. Maybe it’s the thought of Dean being physically mistreated, the mention of Dick Roman’s disgusting offer, or the very sobering thought that Castiel has caused his omega pain… 

Whatever it is, Castiel growls and pulls Dean back to him, smashing their mouths together possessively. Dean resists for a split-second before his scent shifts, the burnt smell giving way to something sweeter, the tension in his body easing up again. He opens his mouth in invitation and Castiel takes, and takes, _and takes_ , biting Dean’s lower lip with a needy tug. He pushes Dean back against the wall with an even harsher push than before, lifts Dean’s knees up and off the ground. The omega whispers a soft “oh fuck” of surprise before wrapping his legs tightly around Castiel’s waist, crossing his ankles against the alpha’s back and hanging on for dear life. 

Castiel devours every inch of Dean’s exposed skin, licking and nipping and sucking on his neck. When that’s not enough, he uses his hips to secure Dean against the wall, then he grasps the collar of Dean’s undershirt with his hands. With an aggressive yank it rips right down the middle, exposing miles of stunning, unseen skin. Dean whimpers when Castiel’s fingers find the perky buds of his nipples, squeezing and pinching lightly. Dean’s erection is trapped between their stomachs, and the omega rubs greedily between them, moaning between sloppy kisses as he seeks a desperate sort of friction. 

Castiel isn’t sure how long this lasts—five minutes, five hours—he’s so lost in lust, in the feeling of Dean’s warm and supple lips all swollen and wet from their furious kisses. His head is foggy, and he doesn’t quite comprehend what’s happening when Dean begins to beg, “Ah, Cas, fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop, right there…” The scent of omega arousal is overpowering and Castiel’s hands wandered down to Dean’s ass, groping and grasping what he can, wishing he could make clothing disappear via sheer will alone. He rubs a hand against Dean’s crack and feels a dampness in the fabric, slick seeping from Dean’s needy little hole. He imagines how sweet it must taste as he licks and sucks at the sweet-smelling scent gland on Dean’s neck, overwhelming Dean’s body in every imaginable way, wanting more and more and more. 

And then Dean shakes against him, shouts his name in Castiel’s ear, and forcefully comes in his jeans.

Castiel kisses him through it, more gently now that Dean’s breathing is leveling out, his eyelashes fluttering closed as he relaxes into the afterglow. Castiel just stares at Dean’s face, joy blooming in his chest, the image of his omega satiated and happy covering his worries like a balm on a wound. He kisses every inch of Dean’s face, strokes his cheeks soothingly, whispers, “Beautiful, Dean, so beautiful…” over and over again in a hushed voice. Eventually he lowers Dean’s feet back to the floor, their foreheads still touching as they share the same air. 

When Dean’s eyes open, his hand reaches for the button of Castiel’s trousers, brushing against his very prominent erection—but the alpha grasps his hand instead, threading their fingers together. Dean looks at him in confusion, but Castiel just presses their palms together and kisses his lips lightly. 

“I’m fine, Dean. Seeing you like that, being able to experience that with you…” He gives a small, genuine smile. “That was a gift in itself.”

Dean blushes a gorgeous shade of pink as he mumbles, “Yeah, well...I got no complaints. I don’t think I’ve come in my pants like that since I was a horny thirteen-year-old.”

Castiel chuckles, cupping Dean’s chin. “I’m glad it was gratifying. It was certainly something I’ll never forget.”

Dean mirrors his smile, touching Castiel’s wrist delicately. Still, there’s hesitation in his eyes when he mutters, “It, uh, wasn’t just a one-time thing, right? ‘Cause if that’s the case, you gotta let me get my hands on you at least once.” 

It’s presented like a joke, but Castiel can feel the urgency of the question beneath it. He can’t pull away from Dean now, not after what’s just transpired between them. Besides, he doesn’t want to—he never did—despite struggling to keep all his worries and fears at bay. 

“No,” he says softly, his thumb worrying Dean’s plump bottom lip, “no, I don’t think I can’t stay away from you anymore, omega. If you want me, I’m at your mercy.”

Dean smiles broadly, his scent cinnamon sweet as a feeling of contentedness sweeps through the air. 

“A sexy, sensitive, powerful alpha at _my_ mercy?” Dean smirks, slipping a hand in Castiel’s back pocket. “Now that’s something I could get used to.”

Castiel grins, though he’s not sure he would associate himself with any of those descriptions. _More like stubborn, awkward, and prickly._

“So…” Dean says with a significant exhale. “What—uh, what now?”

That’s the big question, the one that’s been churning away in the back of Castiel’s mind since he spun Dean around and kissed him for the second time. Dean is still his employee—not only that, but an employee with a white-collar contract. Now that they’ve crossed all the professional boundaries, what are the moral and legal options here? Will Dean’s contract have to be altered, or can Castiel abolish the existence of the contract altogether? 

And what exactly are they to each other now? Two consenting adults, simply surrendering to a mutual attraction? Or is there something much more going on, a connection that Castiel can’t quite shake…and is terrified to name?

“Cas?” Dean’s hand strokes his forehead, his cheeks. “You’ve got blockers on, but I’m pretty sure I can still scent the freakout that’s happening.”

Castiel chuckles nervously and takes Dean’s hand, kissing his palm. “No freakout. I’m just thinking, is all.” He bites his lip, squeezing Dean’s wrist before dropping his hand. His mind is whirling with decisions, but after a few calculating moments, he thinks it’s time to put a game plan in motion. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up? And…” He frowns regretfully. “Probably best if you apply your blockers again, so we can talk without distraction.”

Dean pouts beautifully, lip protruding as his hands settle on Castiel’s hips. “What if I like distracting you, alpha?”

Castiel scoffs as Dean bites his lip, practically batting his eyelashes in Cas’ direction. 

“You, Dean Winchester,” Castiel says slowly, pulling the omega close for a parting peck on the lips, “are trouble.”

***

It’s a stroke of luck that they have the manor to themselves tonight, a fact Castiel is happy to take advantage of. Dean cleans up quickly, showering and slipping on a change of clothes before spraying on his scent blockers again. Castiel can’t help but rub his nose into the crook of Dean’s neck, seeing if there’s any remnant of cinnamon sweetness on his skin—but it’s been completely covered. Of course Dean smells good, like he often does—a blend of fresh laundry and body wash—but Castiel already misses his omega’s delicious scent. He has a fleeting thought of throwing both of their prescription blockers in the trash, allowing them to enjoy each other’s natural scent anytime they wish. But that could only result in them tangled up in bed at every hour of the day…at least that’s what it seems like now, since Castiel is so charged up—giddy at the thought that he’s allowed to have this now.

Castiel suggests they order dinner in, but Dean balks at the idea and starts pulling random ingredients out of the pantry. Cas looks at him incredulously, but the omega just shoots him a lopsided grin and gets to work. He grabs flour and vegetable oil, an array of spices, then heads for the fridge and pulls out a container of raw chicken, eggs, and buttermilk. He heads to the sink to wash his hands as Castiel just blinks at him. 

“Well,” Dean says, tone light, “you gonna sous chef me, or what?”

That request is how Castiel ends up with fingertips drenched in egg wash, a layer of flour sticking to his hands. 

“Fried chicken is messy,” Castiel complains, passing Dean another drumstick coated in dry ingredients then dredged in a wet concoction. They’re almost done assembling the various elements with dinner, _thank goodness_ , because Castiel is currently being reminded of why he never cooks. Honestly, if Dean or Ellen aren’t shoving food under his nose, he barely eats—some days he just forgets. 

“Messy is fun,” Dean says, promptly plopping the last piece of chicken into the heavy skillet, the oil popping. Castiel grumbles indistinctly, looking down at his soiled button-up and the flour on his trousers. He goes to the sink and washes his hands thoroughly, at least three times, before patting them dry and returning to the stove. Dean shuffles the skillet around on the burner, and when he turns his head, a laugh gets caught in Castiel’s throat. 

“What?” Dean asks.

Castiel’s hands come to caress Dean’s face, lightly touching the dusting of flour on his forehead. This man is much too adorable for his own good. “You’ve got a little something there.”

Dean frowns, wiping a thumb across his skin before turning his eyes back on Cas, grinning. 

“Huh. C’m’here and show me,” he says, pulling Castiel in by the elbows. He tries to lean in and kiss him, tilting his dirty forehead purposefully in Castiel’s direction. 

The alpha jumps back, says, “Hey, don’t—” before Dean swipes at the shallow bowl of flour mix and powders the tip of Castiel’s nose. Castiel has a flash of shocked irritation before he sees Dean’s gleaming smile, mischief and amusement clear on his face, and he has a better idea. He pulls the omega to him, feigning a kiss as well before grabbing a fistful of flour and flinging it on his face. The plan backfires, of course, half of the flour sprinkling on Castiel instead. But the look of surprise on Dean’s face is well worth it, and they end up covered in white powder, Dean sitting on the countertop and Castiel between his legs, making out for ten minutes. When the chicken is ready to be turned, Dean whispers, “See, toldja there’s nothing wrong with a little mess,” and slips off the counter with another kiss. 

They eat at the kitchen table like they usually do, coleslaw and mac and cheese on the side, and the chicken is _almost_ good enough that Castiel volunteers to help again sometime. Almost. Over dinner they don’t discuss anything consequential, just small talk about their friends and work and Dean’s progress in reading _The Fellowship of the Ring._ (Dean is stuck in the Tom Bombadil chapter, which even Castiel admits is slow because of the folk songs. But he promises the plot resumes with the chapter “At the Sign of the Prancing Pony '' and Dean reluctantly agrees to push through.)

When their plates are practically licked clean, Dean plants his elbows on the table and looks at Castiel curiously. 

“So…” He clears his throat, taking a long swig of beer. “Sorta feel like we gotta talk about the elephant in the room.”

“Oh?” Castiel says ironically, postponing the inevitable. “What elephant is that?”

“Um, the one where you manhandled me against the wall and had your dirty little alpha way with me,” Dean retorts, grinning suggestively. “Though, from what I felt against my thigh, there’s nothing _little_ about it.”

Castiel flushes, chuckling nervously and staring down at his glass of ice water. Dean sits quietly after that, just waiting for Castiel to take the lead. The alpha finally takes a deep breath, and says in a rush, “Dean, what happened between us today is something I’ve thought about.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean asks, as if trying to suss out his meaning. 

“Dreamed about,” Castiel corrects, and the omega gives him a pleased smile. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment we met. I never thought you would want someone like me, but…” He trails off, particularly after seeing Dean’s flabbergasted expression.

“You thought… _I_ wouldn’t want you?” Eyes wide and lips pursued, Dean laughs. “What the hell, Cas?”

Castiel bites his lip and looks away. “Dean, I’m…well, not old, but _older_. My pop culture references have been around as long as you’ve been alive. Not to mention, I’m quiet and awkward and—”

“Like hell you are. If anything, you’re mysterious, and assertive, and hot as fucking hell,” Dean counters passionately. He reaches across the table, pushing their plates away and taking Castiel’s hand. “Man, who are you kidding? I’m the pissed-off omega with nothing but a GED, a shitty dad, and truckload of baggage. I don’t have anything to offer you, Cas, not a fucking thing.”

“That’s far from the truth,” Castiel says defensively. “You’re intelligent and inquisitive, kind and funny. You’ve brought light back into this house that I haven’t seen since…” Castiel throat tightens a little, burning as he thinks about Jimmy. Apart from sharing a secondary gender and evidently seeing the best in Castiel, his twin brother and Dean have nothing in common. But the genuine sense of goodness Dean carries around, it shines like Jimmy’s used to—even under years of distress and neglect. 

“Joshua mentioned that today…how, um, your parents left after Jimmy, but you came back,” Dean says in a quiet voice, grip tightening on their entwined fingers. “You think about him a lot, huh?”

Castiel smiles thinly, thinks, _only every time I look in the mirror._ “All the time.”

Dean nods, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry if I’ve… If me being around makes you think about him more.”

“No, don’t be,” Castiel says instantly. “It’s been—peculiar, talking about him more, but not unwelcome. We had seventeen years of good memories together, and you’ve reminded me of that.”

“Good, I’m glad.” Dean squeezes his hand, eyes warm as he nods his head. “But, um, when it comes to you’n me…” He sighs, scrubbing his free hand against his face. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m terrible at this feelings crap.” 

“That’s one thing we have in common.” Castiel chuckles low in his throat, turning Dean’s palm open and tracing the lines with his thumb. “I enjoy your company, Dean, very much. And I would be interested in repeating today’s events—not just the interaction in the hallway, but everything that came afterwards.” _The cooking, the intimacy, the affection._

“The ‘interaction in the hallway’?” Dean snorts, though his gaze remains open. “Dude, I dunno what kind of interactions you usually have in hallways, but mine don’t usually include coming in my pants.”

A possessive rumble comes out of Castiel’s throat when he says, “I’m glad to hear that.”

Dean raises his eyebrows, a flush on his cheeks. “So, you’re saying… You wanna do this again?”

“Surely that’s obvious by now.” Castiel takes a deep breath, dreading the second half of this conversation. “But you’re still my employee, Dean, and unless you decide to leave—”

“Not happening,” Dean interrupts flatly, and Castiel’s chest floods with relief. 

“Well, then, we need to be discreet and decide how to handle this,” he says cautiously. 

“But you’re the boss,” Dean argues. “Can’t we just do whatever you want?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Castiel begins, choosing his words carefully. “I wouldn’t want to make anyone on staff uncomfortable. More importantly, I wouldn’t want any of the alphas I do business with to…to try and manipulate me through you.”

Dean parts in lips in surprise, but then blinks, nodding slowly. “Like your brother and his friends?”

Castiel nods. “I would never let that happen. But unfortunately, my interest in you only makes them want you more.” He resists the urge to ball his hands into fists—thinking of anyone trying to take his omega away makes a flash of rage ripple through him. But he has to be fair to Dean as well, he has to put all his cards on the table about what kind of future they could actually have together. “And…Dean?”

Dean looks up, green eyes focused on Castiel with an intensity that takes his breath away. “Yeah?”

“I should tell you that I…I can’t give you what other alphas can.” Dean wrinkles his eyebrows in confusion, so Castiel reaches across the table, cradling Dean’s head in one hand while stroking his smooth neck with the other. When he presses down gently on Dean’s scent gland, very near where a mating bite would go, the omega stiffens beneath him. 

“Oh,” Dean says quietly. 

“I never planned to mate. Not after…” Castiel knows his voice sounds desperate, but he has to convince Dean—has to make him understand. “It has nothing to do with you, Dean, believe me. That’s a decision I made over a decade ago, and never doubted it—not until I met you.”

Dean offers him a small smile, reaching for his wrist and kissing the inside of Cas’ palm. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re on the same page. I’m not lookin’ to get bit anytime soon, if ever.”

“Really?” Castiel can’t seem to contain his surprise. 

Dean grunts out a laugh. “Can you fucking blame me, man, with alphas like Dick Roman wandering around—thinking I’m a basically just a hole to fuck?”

Castiel feels a coil of anger twist inside his stomach, and he breathes through his mouth, trying to keep a clear head. “Next time he’s around, remind me to kill him.”

Dean laughs softly and shakes his head. “Nah, if you go to jail then the population of decent alphas in my life basically sets to zero.” 

Castiel beams a little, whispers, “Come here,” and Dean stands to his feet. He straddles Castiel’s lap carefully, hands wrapped around the back of Cas’ neck. 

“You know I’ve never, um…” Dean squirms a little, avoiding Cas’ eye. 

“Never what?”

“Never _been_ with an alpha.”

Castiel’s mouth runs dry. He clears his head, trying not to think about the omega sitting in his lap—more or less admitting to being a virgin. 

“I’ve never been with an omega,” Castiel admits, his voice low and husky. He brings his thumb to drag over Dean’s bottom lip, breath hitching when Dean’s tongue wets his lips, brushing the pad of Castiel’s finger. 

“That’s…good to know,” Dean mumbles, eyes glazing over a little. Castiel hands travel up Dean’s thighs, kneading the tight muscles there. He works his way up, holding Dean’s hips before slipping a hand under his flannel and feeling the hot silky skin of his back. They stare at each other beyond a socially acceptable amount of time before Dean surges forward, crashing their lips together, all teeth and tongue and desperation. Castiel parts his lips, inviting Dean in, enjoying the feeling of his omega seeking his own pleasure. Just as he’s starting to feel his own cock stir, the sound of the front door opening and closing makes them freeze. 

“Should I…?” Dean hands are fisting in Castiel’s hair, his collar all askew. 

“Yes,” Castiel says, somewhat urgently as Dean swings a leg over and stands back to his feet. He’s still adjusting his rumpled shirt when Kevin, Jo, and Sam enter the kitchen, chatting idly about a cool booth at the craft fair. 

“Hey–hey guys,” Dean mutters awkwardly. “You’re back early.”

“Early?” Sam gives him a skeptical look. “Dean, it’s nearly ten o’clock… We stayed out til curfew.”

“Hey, speak for yourself,” Kevin says, tossing his hands up. “I’m too old to have a curfew, even if I have to follow yours.”

“Yeah,” Jo tosses in, “not all of us can have an overbearing older brother. I swear, Winchester, you’re worse than my mother.”

Dean gives a strained smile and rolls his eyes. “Fine. You’re sixteen now, Sammy, so how about ten-thirty?”

Sam snorts, running a hand through his long hair. “Very generous, thanks Dean.” 

Kevin ambles over to the pantry, grabbing a snack before heading to his room. Jo fills a glass of water, chugs it, then leaves out the back door for the Harvelle cottage. Sam just stays planted, eyeing the table full of empty dishes, then looking between Dean and Castiel with suspicion all over his features. 

“So, what have you guys been up to?” he asks slowly, dragging out every word and raising his eyebrows. Dean opens and closes his mouth, looking at Castiel for help. “Y’know what, I don’t wanna know.” Sam laughs, claps Dean on the shoulder, and heads in the direction of their suite. 

***

Dean can hardly wait to get to his desk Monday morning. He hadn’t been able to get Cas alone for even a minute on Sunday, between cleaning the house and helping Ellen fix a shelf in the pantry. Standing in front of the mirror, he spends way too long fiddling with his tie and button-up. He isn’t sure why he’s trying so hard to look nice, it isn’t like Cas doesn’t see him everyday. He wets his hands a little and swipes his hair down, deciding he’s good enough before heading out into the main part of the suite.

Sam is sitting at the small table, seemingly deciding what books to put in his bag for school. Sam had tried to interrogate Dean yesterday when he got back to their suite but he had managed to dodge that line of questioning and hid in his room.

“Morning, Romeo.” Sam chuckles as he looks Dean up and down. “Looking sharp.”

“Shuddup,” Dean grumps, smacking Sam upside the head when he’s too slow to duck.

“Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it.” Sam smiles at him, and Dean can’t help but feel the heat creeping up his neck.

“Stay out of it okay, Sam? It's complicated.” He gives Sam his serious stare, to which his brother simply rolls his eyes.

“Yeah okay, Dean, there's _nothing_ going on between you and Mister Novak.” Sam sighs, slinging his bag on his shoulder. “Totally believable.”

Dean opens his mouth to reply, but he can’t think of anything to say. Sam gives Dean’s shoulder a patronizing pat before he slips out the door and heads for the garage. Dean seriously hopes he isn’t that obvious to everyone, especially since Cas wants to keep things on the downlow.

He’d found it easy to be confident with Castiel—something about being around the alpha gave Dean courage and made him more bold. Alone in his room later, though, the doubt had started to creep in. Fear that Castiel didn’t really want him, fear that Cas would never want to mate with him, fear that Cas _would_ want to mate with him, even a little bit of fear about bottoming, especially with an alpha. He’d spent every second of his life since he presented trying to prevent an alpha from fucking him. Now here he is, wet and wanting, practically ready to jump on Castiel’s knot. He wants it, he really really wants it, but the idea of it scares him a little. To do that with Cas means he’d be giving up complete control, and he’d never done that with anyone before.

His mind is bogged down with all these thoughts as he absentmindedly grabs coffee and some muffins for Cas and himself. Ellen has made a fresh batch of coffee cake muffins with cinnamon sugar swirl, and they’re still warm. He’s just made it to Castiel’s office when the door is flung open and a wild-eyed alpha is staring at him.

“Dean, your blockers?” Castiel huffs, eyes wide and confused.

Dean can’t help but laugh a little. “It’s muffins, not me, dummy. See?” He holds up the plate with the muffins on it and Castiel flushes an adorable red.

“Oh,” is all he says, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. Dean thinks it's the cutest thing he’s ever seen. 

“Come on, you look like you could use some breakfast…though maybe I should have got you decaf.” He smiles at the alpha and heads into the office, putting down the drinks and food.

“Thank you, Dean, that was very…thoughtful,” Cas replies, with a nod as he stands awkwardly by the door.

“Are you alright?” He hates to ask, but Cas seems all kinds of nervous. Castiel stares at him for a moment before shutting the door and striding over to him. He sinks his hands into Dean’s recently styled hair and grips hard as he pulls him into a heated kiss. It only takes a second before he’s kissing Castiel back, relishing the pull on his hair and the grip of the hand on his hip. He whimpers into the kiss letting Castiel lead, allowing himself to melt against the man.

Dean can’t smell Cas but he can taste him, making his head swim and his body practically vibrate with need. He really wants Cas to just bend him over the desk, pull down his trousers, and work this talented tongue into him till he’s begging for his knot, and—

A knock at the door has Cas swiftly pulling back, eyes looking scared and guilty. Dean swallows hard, trying to compose himself and shake off those very tempting thoughts from his head. He straightens his tie before walking up to the stunned alpha. “You look like you just got caught with your hand in the cookie jar, dude. Deep breaths.”

The alpha seems to settle at that a little, and even smiles as he goes to open the door. Kevin is standing there with a laptop under his arm, and his own coffee mug clutched in his hand. 

“Am I early?” he asks, looking between the two of them.

“No, not at all, Dean was just bringing me breakfast.” Dean nods and grabs his own mug off Castiel's desk before ducking out past Kevin. 

He settles in and opens his email, trying not to listen to Castiel and Kevin’s meeting. It's hard not to be distracted by that low rumble though, and he finds himself just sitting there listening to them. He almost misses his phone buzzing in his pocket, but eventually pulls it out to see several texts from his father. 

**John 7:32 AM << **where the hell did your brother get off to?

 **John 7:45 AM <<** Don’t you dare ignore me son

 **John 8:03 AM << **If one of you isn’t back here tonight I’m coming to find you

 **John 8:04 AM << **I mean it Dean

“Fuck,” Dean groans under his breath. He knew at some point John would get pissed that Sam was gone. He should be less surprised than he is. He also knows his dad will make good on that threat, and the last thing he wants is his dad showing up on the alpha’s doorstep. Legally his dad still has custody of Sam, so Dean can’t afford to start a war with him.

 **Dean 8:14 AM >> **I’ll swing by tonight

He tosses his phone on the desk and glares at it for ruining what could have been a good day.

“Hey Dean.” He looks up to see Kevin leaning around the corner. “Can you come in for a second?”

Dean nods, getting up and plastering on his best “everything’s fine” face. Castiel and Kevin are hunched over his laptop when he comes in. Cas gives Dean a concerned look, maybe catching on to some of his newfound tension. He just shakes his head at him, as if to say he’s okay, and sits down next to Kevin.

“Right, okay…so I wanted Dean to look at this. He was the one who found the last error when he was helping me with that big file.” Kevin slides the laptop over. Dean feels a little silly, but he drags it closer and clicks through the table.

“So, what is this?” he asks, as he looks at all the tabs.

“Research from two different labs. I need to be able to compare what each one found about the same formula, but it's taking me forever to manually calculate it all. Can you do that thing you did before on the other file?”

He squints at the file a moment, creates a new column and does a quick vlookup formula off the formula lot number, which seems to be the same in each file. A few clicks and formatting and he turns the laptop back to Kevin.

“This help?” he asks, hoping he didn’t mess anything up.

“Dude, you just saved me like hours of work. You rock.” Kevin holds up his hand for a high-five, which Dean happily returns.

“Wasn’t that hard, it's just a simple formula.” Dean shrugs.

“You have a talent for this,” Castiel remarks, looking at Dean with a warm proud smile on his face. Dean doesn’t really know what to do with the compliment, though seeing that look on Castiel’s face fills him with an odd sense of pride. He made his alpha happy.

“Uh, thanks…but really, it's nothing major.”

“Well, it helped us out a great deal. Thank you, Dean,” Castiel says earnestly, and Dean feels a warmth spread in his chest.

He takes that warm fuzzy feeling with him when he retreats back to his desk. He spends the rest of the morning sorting emails and cleaning up files before sending them to Cas. He’s glad the alpha keeps his door open so he can catch glimpses of him while he works. Being close to Cas has him feeling more at ease, even with his looming plans for the afternoon. He wants to try and get the alpha alone so he can get a look at what’s under that suit and tie.

Ellen brings them both sandwiches late in the afternoon, and it's nearly five before Dean realizes they’ve both worked straight through the day. He jumps a little when he looks up to see Castiel standing in front of him, smiling down at him.

“Jesus, Cas, you can’t sneak up on a guy like that.” He chuckles, shaking his head.

“My apologies,” Cas answers, without sounding the least bit apologetic. “I was hoping we might find some time to talk again tonight. I’ve missed you today.” The alpha reaches out and skates a finger along Dean’s hand, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles.

“You know I’ve been right here, like ten feet from you, right?” He gives a nervous laugh.

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you,” Castiel says, all humor leaving his voice.

“I um…I want to talk with you, believe me I want to, but I kinda gotta go take care of some things tonight.” Dean feels guilt crash on him like a wave.

“What things? Is anything wrong?” Castiel seems to pick up on his moods so well, even with his blockers on.

“I need to swing by my old house, is all. Sam left some stuff there that he needs and I just want to check up on the place.” In other words, make sure his dad hasn’t burnt it to the ground.

“You’re seeing your father?” The alpha bristles, a little a frown wrinkling his brow.

“Well, he does live there.” Dean avoids the question.

“May I come with you?” Castiel asks, like he is picking his words carefully.

“Cas, it's a bit of a drive. You really don’t have to.” Plus, the last thing he needs is Cas getting into it with his father.

“But I want to. Please, Dean.” Castiel sounds downright anxious, and Dean doesn’t have it in him to tell the alpha no or turn away a chance to spend time with him.

“Fine, but you gotta just follow my lead with stuff, understand?” He knows he’s taking a risk bringing Cas, letting him see where Dean came from. Still, maybe it's best if Cas knows now rather than finding out later and ditching him.

“I can call Alfie to drive us after he returns with Sam?” Castiel offers as they head toward the kitchen.

“No, I wanna leave before he gets back and tries to come along too. I can drive, plus I haven’t taken my baby out on the road in a while.” Dean smiles at the thought, and Castiel simply nods before they head out toward the garages, waving to Missouri and Joshua who are talking in the flower garden.

Sliding into the driver's seat of the Impala always feels a bit like coming home to Dean. He can’t hide the smile as he turns her ignition and hears the loud, rumbling purr of the engine. Castiel slides in next to him, rubbing a hand over the slick leather seat.

“I do enjoy this car a great deal,” Castiel comments, looking over at Dean, showing he means it.

“Yeah, she’s a real beauty.” Dean glows a little with pride as he pulls out and heads toward the highway.

The traffic isn’t too bad, and Dean watches the mile markers fly by, feeling his nerves building the closer they get. He isn’t sure what to say to his dad—he hasn’t seen him since he left for Castiel’s. Mostly he’s still furious with his father, but there’s still that tiny part of him that can’t help but worry about him too. Especially now, being all alone in Lawrence.

He jumps a little when he feels a hand on his thigh, and he glances over to see Cas watching him intently.

“You're worried,” Castiel says simply, and it's not a question. Dean wonders if he is that easy to read or if he’s just that easy to read _by Cas_. He reaches down to take Castiel’s hand and pulls it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss over the knuckles. The touch is soothing, just like everything about Cas, it just feels good to be near him—to touch him. When he lowers his hand Castiel laces their fingers together and rests it on the seat between them. They have so much to talk about, but with his mind spinning he just can’t fathom doing that now. He just wants to be for a little while, just the two of them.

“If you reach under there, you can pick out a tape.” Dean nods toward the shoe box on the floor. Castiel reaches down, plucking a tape at random since he seems to refuse to let Dean’s hand go. His other hand slides it into the tape deck with ease. Creedence Clearwater starts up, and Dean can’t help but flush a little listening to the lyrics, and thinking of the godsend that the rain had come two days ago.

_I wanna know have you ever seen the rain,_

_I wanna know have you ever seen the rain,_

_Coming down, a sunny day_

_Yesterday and days before_

_The sun is cold and rain is hot, I know_

Dean settles back into his seat and enjoys the feeling of Castiel’s thumb brushing over his skin. He has to let go when they get off the highway, and he makes a few turns through the center of the city and over the river, till he finally hits North Lawrence. He weaves his way up to his old house. He parks on the street, happily seeing that John’s truck isn’t parked out front.

He cuts the engine and peers up at the house, the broken shutters, the peeling paint, the moss-covered roof. He wonders what on earth possessed him to bring Cas here. “If you wanna just wait here, I won’t be long,” Dean adds, feeling reluctant to get out of the car.

“I’d like to come with you, if that's—if that's something you're comfortable with.” Castiel's voice is warm and sincere, and Dean knows it's his decision.

Before he can overthink it he replies with a curt, “Yeah, okay, whatever,” and leaps out of the car, moving toward the back door. He hears Castiel’s own door shut and the sound of his footsteps following him. When he reaches the creaking screen door, he pauses, turning to look at Cas. 

“It wasn’t… it wasn’t always like this.” 

He isn’t sure why he says it, but he feels like he needs Cas to know that, to know that the house wasn’t always this way. That this house did feel like home once, a long time ago, and that it stopped being his home when his mother died. He doesn’t know how to say all that, though.

Luckily Cas just reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. Dean bites his lip before grabbing the key under the mat and pushing into the house. The first thing that hits him is the familiar alpha smell of his father, smoky and a bit whiskey sour, though he could never tell if that scent came from the actual whiskey or not. The house hasn’t had the major repairs it needs, but Dean had always managed to keep it clean, at least. Now though, it looks completely forgotten. Dishes are piled in the sink and boots scattered by the door, and a funny smell coming from the fridge.

“Jesus.” Dean breathes out, taking it all in. He can’t imagine how his dad is living like this. Despite all the pain John has caused him, it still breaks something in him to see his dad brought so low. He wonders what his mother would think—if she’d be ashamed of him for abandoning his dad. Not that he’d had much of a choice in the matter, with Dean selling his contract to keep this roof over his dad's head. That has to count for something, right?

“Dean.” Castiel’s soft voice breaks him from his thoughts.

“I gotta grab some stuff from our room…just don’t touch anything.” He feels mortified at the idea of Castiel’s suit getting dirty, just bumping against something in this place. He moves past the living room, littered with old beer cans, and makes his way to the back hall to his room. He ignores the pictures still hanging on the wall like he always does, but he notices Cas stopping to peer into each one.

He swallows the lump in his throat before he goes into his and Sam’s room. To Dean’s shock the window is wide open, likely from Sam’s hasty exit. He looks at the door and sees the cracking in the wood around the handle and imagines the force put on it when Sam took off. It makes the heat creep up his neck as he feels rage fill him. It’s one thing for John to knock him around, but to come after Sam—to let his friends come after him—is crossing the line.

“This is Sam’s room?” Castiel asks, coming in behind him.

“Uh, yeah. I mean, it was both of ours.” Dean shrugs, looking at the old Zeppelin poster above his bed and the neat bookcase over by Sam’s.

“You both shared a room?” Castiel asks, as he moves toward Dean’s side—looking at all the crap he had on his old desk.

“Yeah, it’s only a two bedroom…but bunking with Sam wasn’t so bad. Unless it was a burrito night.” Dean chuckles and Cas smiles at him, a little of the tension easing. He grabs his old book bag from the floor and starts tucking a few items into it that he’s heard his brother complain about missing. Mostly his favorite pens, a few books, and some clothing.

“Is that your mother?” Castiel asks, pointing at the small picture frame Sam had left on his desk. His mom is sitting on the front steps holding baby Sam in her arms, with a young Dean leaning over her shoulder. It's one of only a few pictures with Sam and his mom together.

“Yeah, that's her,” he says quietly, taking the picture and wiping off the dust before putting it in the bag.

“She was beautiful. I think you have her eyes,” Castiel adds, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. Dean’s sure it’s just pity—poor little omega with the dead mom and a drunk dad. Still, he can’t bring himself to move away from the comforting touch. Especially since he’s pretty sure Cas isn’t gonna wanna come near him after this, seeing where he’s come from.

“What's that?” Castiel asks, pointing to the head of Dean’s bed. He looks over and sees the dream catcher still hanging there.

“Sam made this for me for my birthday one year, said it would keep bad dreams away.” Dean shrugs like it's nothing, but snags it quickly to stuff in the bag when Cas isn’t looking.

“Do you have bad dreams, Dean?” Castiel asks, watching him carefully. Dean isn’t used to people looking at him like that, like what he says next is important.

“Bad dreams? Nah, not me, but the little twerp had worked hard on it so I kept it.” He lets the lie slip off his tongue.

“Not so little anymore,” Castiel muses.

“That's the truth, I swear he’s gonna grow to be a huge alpha someday.” Dean certainly prays he does.

“He could also be a strong omega just like his brother,” Castiel adds.

“I sure as fuck hope not. I want better for him,” Dean mutters, slinging the bag on his back.

“Dean, there’s no shame in being who you are,” Castiel says fervently, blocking his exit from the room.

“Easy to say when you’re an alpha. Walk a day in my shoes and see how grand you think it is,” Dean scoffs, because no matter how hard Cas tries, he’s never going to completely understand what it's like to walk through life in a world that treats you as lesser.

“Dean, I didn’t mean—" 

Castiel is cut short by a loud bang of a door and an echoing yell ringing through the house. “Dean Winchester, get down here!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did we surprise you? A LOT of you thought we would keep these two apart even longer, hehe.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, loves. Thanks so much for all your sweet words last week! We have the best readers in the world and we're so lucky to have you all.
> 
> Heads up that the first half of this chapter is pretty heavy. If you need it, please check the content warning present in the end notes.

Dean feels frozen to the floor, feet made of lead and stomach twisting. He knew his dad would be home, and that he needed to talk to him…but faced with it, he’s filled with nothing but dread.

“Dean, look at me,” Castiel says in a soft whisper, grabbing his shoulders in a gentle hold. “I’m right here. It will all be fine.” There’s so much confidence in those words that it does help to settle him, and for a moment he desperately wishes he could scent Cas to calm his nerves.

“Dean!” John bellows down the hall.

“He’s my dad. I can handle it—just stay behind me and don’t say anything, okay?” Dean levels Cas with a pleading look, and he watches the man's lips disappear into a thin line—but he nods his consent.

Dean moves down the hall, feeling the alpha hot on his heels. John is standing by the kitchen table, shrugging off his coat and tossing it on a chair. Dean sees fresh bruises on his knuckles and wonders if he got himself in another bar fight recently.

“Hey Dad, you remember Castiel.” Dean nods over his shoulder as his dad looks up at both of them, taking them in.

“Hello, Mister Winchester.” Castiel’s voice is cool and calm, but Dean can sense the underlying tension.

“The fuck’s he doin’ here?” John grumbles, moving to the freezer and grabbing a fresh bottle of whiskey from the top. “Got you on actual leash? White-collar contract my ass.” 

“He just came for the drive with me, that’s all.” Dean sighs already feeling tired from dealing with his dad.

“Uh-huh, as if you aren’t ass up for him by now. Just don’t you forget who’s the alpha in this family.” John strides up to him, poking a finger at Dean’s chest but glaring at Castiel. Dean feels Cas’ low warning growl behind him…luckily his dad doesn’t seem to notice.

“Look, I just came to grab some things and check up on you. The house is a mess, Dad.” He drops his voice, as if that will keep Castiel from hearing.

“Grab some things for your brother, huh? The little shit is holed up with you now? He drop out of school too?” John sneers, tipping back a sip of whiskey and not even wincing at the burn. Dean can’t help but flush scarlet at the reminder that he didn’t even graduate—one more reason he isn’t good enough for someone as educated as the alpha bristling behind him.

“He’s doing fine. Still going to school every day, I promise,” Dean answers, as if John really cares if either of them went to school.

“He plannin’ to come home anytime soon? Boy should be home when he presents—he’s gonna need me to show him how to be a real alpha. He can’t learn that from his bitch brother.”

Castiel pushes past Dean getting, right up in John’s face. "You will not use that derogatory language toward your son again, Mister Winchester.”

“I’ll say whatever the hell I want to my son in my house,” John growls back. They both look like angry dogs with their hackles raised.

“I won’t say it again—”

Dean shifts between them, a hand on each chest. “Chill the fuck out, both of you.” He scowls at Cas, hoping the alpha will back down. He feels them both leaning into his hand a moment before finally they both take a step back. 

He turns to look at Cas then, meeting his glowing blue eyes. “Can you please just wait by the door, Cas? I got this, I promise.” The alpha eyes him warily. He knows better than to ask Cas to wait in the car—chances of that being slim—but he needs to get some distance here so it doesn’t turn into an all out brawl. Begrudgingly the alpha nods, moving toward the back door with arms crossed—glaring at Dean's father.

Dean stands to block his father’s view, dropping his voice. “Dad, Sam wants to stay with me…and after the shit you and your friends pulled, I don’t blame him. If any of you had laid a hand on him, we’d be having a different conversation right now.” He lets some of his own anger leak into the words. John looks shocked for a moment before his eyes narrow at him.

“He’s my son, and if I need to teach him some manners I will.” John leans in then, whispering under his breath so only he can hear. “You better hold up your end of the contract, boy. I’m not losing this house. If I do, I’m taking Sam with me and you can fend for yourself, you hear me? You think your cool shit just ‘cause some alpha wants to bend you over? Well newsflash, Dean, so does every other alpha out there, and when they get bored of you—which they will—they’ll dump you on the street. You finish this contract and take care of your family, ‘cause believe me, this alpha isn’t gonna do it. If this dumb rich fuck wants to feed both my kids for now, then it’s fine by me, but the second Sam turns, Dean, you bring him straight back here. At least one of my boys will have a shot at making me proud.”

Dean swallows hard as the cruel words dig their way into his head, thinking they wouldn’t hurt so much if they didn’t feel a little true. He keeps his jaw stiff as he faces his father. “I’ll hold up my end of the deal and so should you. I didn’t save this house for it to be condemned. Clean the fuck up around here. What would Mom think if she—”

Dean doesn’t have a chance to finish his sentence before he feels a burst of pain spread over the side of his face and he falls staggering to the ground. He sees stars a moment as he blinks his eyes, trying to focus on the water stain on the ceiling. He hears growling and grunting and feet shuffling above him.

“Dean, are you okay?” 

He leans up, squinting at the pulsing pain in his head. He looks to see a furious Castiel pinning his snarling father to the wall.

“Fuck, don’t hurt him, Cas,” he mutters, swinging his legs back under him and using the table to haul himself to his feet.

“How dare you lay your hands on him.” Castiel shakes John, knocking him against the wall again with a white-knuckled grip on his dad's shirt. John is a bigger alpha—and he’s likely been in way more fights—but his drunkenness is no match for Castiel’s rage.

“Get the hell out of my house!” John bellows.

Castiel barks a harsh laugh. “This house belongs to your son, or didn’t you read that part of the contract? When the debt is paid, this house and your business all go to Dean. So you remember that when you speak to your son, before you dare touch him or threaten him again. You only have a roof over your head because he wants you to, and frankly, I wouldn’t blame him one bit if he wanted to leave you out in the cold.”

Dean feels as shocked as John looks. He hadn’t noticed that part of the contract, having been far more focused on what he was going through. “Cas, is that really true?” he asks, clearing the roughness from his throat.

“Every word of it.” Cas doesn’t take his eyes off John, who is squirming in his grip. 

“I’d like to see you try and kick me out,” John huffs as he glares at Dean.

“I’m not kicking you out.” Dean straightens his shoulder back, striding up to the two of them. “But you ever hit me again, you ever lay a finger on Sam, and I’ll show you how hard an omega can hit before I throw your ass out on the street.”

He stares his father down then, letting him know that Dean means every single word. John doesn’t say a word, but Dean doesn’t expect him to. He leans down, feeling his head spin a bit as he grabs the bag he dropped. “Let him go Cas,” he says, pulling the bag onto his shoulder, “we’re leaving.”

Cas gives John one last shove into the wall before he turns to Dean and follows him out the back door. Dean manages to make it halfway down the driveway before he suddenly slumps over the nearest bush and proceeds to vomit. His stomach heaves and twists, making his head spark with pain again. He feels arms lifting the bag from his shoulder, and then petting over the top of his head.

“Dean, you might have a concussion. I think you should go to a hospital.” Castiel’s worried voice rings in his ears.

“Mmm good, just take me home, please…just wanna get out of here.” He digs in his pocket before he shoves the keys at Cas, knowing he is in no state to drive. Cas holds on to Dean’s arm, helping him straighten up as he scowls at the acidic taste in his mouth. He’d known this whole thing had been a bad idea, letting Cas come here. He should’ve left him behind and not let him see all this. He can’t even look Cas in the eye as the alpha helps him into the car, knowing this promises to be a long, uncomfortable drive home.

****

Castiel sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. It’s barely eight o’clock, but it might as well be midnight—too much has happened in too short of a time. He grips the kitchen counter while a bowl of soup spins around inside the microwave, wondering why his hands are shaking. He’s not the one who was hit, pushed to the ground, currently lying in bed with a mild concussion— 

“Sure you don’t want me to call a doctor?” Ellen mutters in a low voice. She’s carrying a tray now, a glass of ice water with a bottle of pain relievers on one side, a sleeve of crackers on the other. 

“No, he’ll be okay,” Castiel replies, though the real answer is that Dean threatened him within an inch of his life if he wasn’t left alone. He doesn’t even seem to want Castiel’s company either, if the silent car ride and immediate closing of his suite door was any indication. But Cas has no intention of leaving his omega alone right now, not if he can be of any help. 

“If you think so,” Ellen says dimly, though she doesn’t sound convinced. “You said it was his dad who did this?”

Castiel’s jaw tightens, trying to keep his rage at a minimum. The things he could’ve done to John Winchester tonight…the things he still wishes he could do. He busies himself with taking the bowl of soup out of the microwave, then mumbles to Ellen, “Yes. I get the sense this wasn’t the first time, either.” 

Ellen clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “I know we haven’t known those boys long, but to think of where they’ve come from, what they’ve had to deal with…” 

She trails off and Castiel catches her gaze, noticing her watery eyes. Castiel has a sudden burning in the back of his throat, realizing he’s not the only one who’s grown attached to the Winchesters. Sam is precocious and kind, intelligent and discerning. He’s going to grow up to be a fine young man—alpha, omega, or beta. 

And then there’s Dean. Brave, lively, kind-hearted, strong. He’s one of the most fascinating individuals Castiel has ever met, and that’s to say nothing of sparkling green eyes, dusting of freckles, the sound of his laugh… 

“Castiel?”

Cas blinks, clearing his throat and snapping his head back to attention. Ellen is looking at him with raised eyebrows, but he ignores her gaze, grabbing the tray and shuffling towards Dean’s room. He knocks cautiously, hearing no response, and he debates his next move before finally deciding to crack open the door. Dean’s suite has a small living quarters with a television and a sofa, and the door to Dean’s bedroom is on the right, thrown open. Castiel tiptoes in and sees Dean facedown on his bed, still fully clothed. 

“Dean?”

The omega shifts on the bed, groaning under his breath. “No offense, Cas, but ‘m kinda hoping to be alone.”

Castiel swallows a lump in his throat. “We can discuss that option after you’ve had soup.”

Dean’s head snaps up. “ _Soup_?”

Castiel doesn’t respond, just drops the tray onto the nearby nightstand. Dean exhales, rolling onto his stomach. Cas begins to untie the other man’s boots, and when he doesn’t protest, the alpha slips off his shoes and unbuttons his flannel. 

“I’m not an invalid, y’know,” Dean says grumpily, though his expression drifts from irritated to surprised when Castiel’s hands unbutton his jeans. His tone is guarded, quiet when he whispers, “Uh, Cas…” 

It’s a warning, an edge of concern evident in his voice. 

“I assure you, I’m just trying to make you comfortable,” Castiel says evenly, trying to remind himself that Dean has only had terrible interactions with alphas in the past. He has no reason to believe Castiel is trustworthy, particularly after being manhandled in the hallway just days ago. He drops his hand deftly, hands rolling into fists. “May I…continue?”

Dean doesn’t speak, just looks at Castiel with a look of scrutiny before finally nodding. Castiel strips the omega’s pants quickly, almost clinically, trying not to notice how small and soft his body looks. How kissable. Castiel wants to wrap his arms around his omega, bury his nose against his scent glands, warm him with an embrace. 

But he knows Dean wants space right now, so instead, he watches as Dean leans against the headboard wearily. Castiel perches tentatively at the edge of the full-size mattress. He wishes he could be piling blankets around Dean in his own bed, the large king-sized that his omega helped pick out. But that would be too forward, considering they’ve only been… _whatever_ they are…for two days. 

The way Dean has his guard up now, Casiel wonders if their relationship will even reach a third day. 

“Is chicken noodle okay?” he asks carefully.

Dean snorts, shaking his head. “You’ve gotta be kidding me—”

“You need to eat,” Castiel interrupts, trying not to sound as impatient as he’s feeling. Dean seems to pick up on Castiel’s waning good spirits, because he reaches for a cracker and takes a few stilted bites. Afterwards he even swallows a few mouthfuls of soup, some color returning to his cheeks as Castiel feeds him.

“Where’s Sam?” Castiel asks softly, conversationally, spoon clinking against the porcelain bowl. 

“Made ‘im go do his homework in the library,” Dean says stiffly. 

“Did he notice…?” Castiel doesn’t know how to finish that sentence, so he just let’s it dangle in the air, offering Dean another spoonful of soup which he promptly swallows. 

“Nah, and hopefully he won’t.” Dean reaches for the water glass and takes a long sip, downing a few pain relievers. “He doesn’t need more stories about how crappy Dad is.”

“Dean.” Castiel reaches for the omega’s hand but Dean pulls away, staring down at his bare legs and boxers. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Castiel blinks, trying to follow Dean’s train of thought. “Tell you…?”

“About the contract, Cas,” the omega replies irritably. “You know, the one with the hidden clause or what-the-fuck-ever. The one I signed that gave away all my dad’s assets…”

He pauses, as if he can’t finish that sentence, so Castiel adds, “To you. They gave them away to _you._ ” Then he shifts uncomfortably on the bed, sliding the food tray onto the bedside table. “I thought you knew. You have a copy of the contract.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t read it. Classic high school dropout, huh?” Dean’s voice is bitter and biting, making Castiel’s nerves fray. “Just another dumb, overly trusting, omega piece of—”

“Dean,” Castiel says sharply, heart pounding in his chest, “I didn’t allow your father to speak that way towards you, and I also refuse to let _you_ speak that way about yourself.” 

He’s using his alpha voice now, a tone he rarely taps into instinctively—but here he is, scolding his omega when he’s unsure of what else to do. He wants to be comforting Dean instead of being so stern, but what choice is his omega leaving him? 

A flush spreads on Dean’s cheeks and he looks down, gnawing on his bottom lip. 

“Well, it’s true,” Dean grumbles. 

“No, it’s not.” Castiel’s tone shifts from firm to gentle, breathing steadily through his nose. “I should have told you about the shift in property and assets. I’m sorry that I didn’t. It seemed right at the time, but perhaps I overstepped my boundaries.”

“Perhaps?” Dean rumbles, his tone dry. He rubs absently at his temple, wincing at the welt forming there. “I just don’t get it, man… Why’d you do it?”

Castiel stares down at his hands, thinking back to that day—well over two months ago. Missouri had drawn up the contract, as she always does, but Castiel had made sure to add that clause in. Of course he’d been thinking about how much he disliked John Winchester, and it seems his instincts were on the mark. But it was less about revenge and more about benevolence—he wanted Dean to have a fighting chance to make it in the world after their contract was up. 

“It’s hard to explain,” he admits, unable to look Dean in the eye. “I’d like to say it was an act of protest, a sign of good faith or support for omega rights… I suppose it was, in a way.” He sighs, finally looking up—meeting Dean’s eyes for the first time in a while. His gaze is impenetrable. “But mostly, I just liked you.”

Dean’s face softens for a moment, before a flash of resolution crosses his face. It’s as if he’s trying to stay angry, Castiel thinks. 

“So, you liked the little omega in need of rescuing?”

Castiel shakes his head. “No, that’s not what I thought at all. I liked the resourceful man I saw. You were fiery and fierce and brave in the face of adversity. I was compelled to help you, Dean. I felt connected to you instantly.”

Dean just gapes at him for a moment, eyes sparking in the lamp light. Immediately Castiel feels like a fool, the back of his neck burning red. Here Dean is, pushing him away and obviously weary of all alphas, and Castiel is waxing poetic and force-feeding him soup. It’s a good thing he’ll never truly be someone’s— _be Dean’s_ —alpha, because he has no idea what he’s doing.

“Anyways,” he mumbles, rising to his feet, “I should—”

There’s a hand on his wrist then, Dean’s grip urgent, pulling him down. Castiel allows himself to sink back down, settling closer this time. Dean’s hand travels to his face. He touches Cas’ forehead, his cheeks, his chin, as if he’s assembling a map from memory. Then he whispers, “Stay, alpha.”

Castiel eyes widen, trying to hold himself back. His omega is vulnerable, lying in a partial state of undress, and saying _alpha_ in a way that sets Cas’ soul on fire. 

“Omega,” he breathes, daring to reach a hand over and do the same—trace the lines of Dean’s face under his fingertips. 

“You’re freaking adorable when you blush,” Dean says, a small smirk covering his face. 

“I do not blush,” Castiel says, feigning grumpiness to make Dean chuckle. He does, smiling and brushing Castiel’s check with the pad of his thumb. He grabs unexpectedly at the collar of Castiel’s button-up, the other hand tugging on his tie, and then Dean smashes their lips together greedily. Castiel lets out a small groan as Dean fills his senses, pulling him in closer to the mattress. As he starts to put his full weight on the bed, Castiel realizes his mistake. 

This bed, it’s the one place where Dean spends hours at a time without his blockers on. Castiel’s mouth waters as the lingering scent of cinnamon sugar fills him up, makes him feverish and dizzy. He goes from concerned to aroused in ten seconds flat. 

He pulls Dean down by the hips, rough and quickly, covering every inch of him. He sucks a mark on his neck, lavishing the skin with his wet mouth and nipping a little, Dean moaning beneath him. He licks his way into Dean’s mouth, tongues eager as they slide together and meet. He’s consumed by all things Dean—he’s spent the last few hours wound up, full of rage and worry. But now that he’s scented his omega again, the sugary spice flooding his every sense, each of his emotions have funneled into one feeling. 

_Lust._

He growls, pulling Dean to him and unceremoniously cupping the omega’s erection from outside his boxers. Dean whimpers as his cock stiffens against Castiel’s hand, and if the alpha thought the scent was overwhelming before, the presence of slick manages to slip through Dean’s diminishing scent blockers. It’s like a baked good suddenly has a dollop of fresh cream added to the top—Castiel doesn’t just want to taste. 

He _needs_ to taste. 

He unbuttons his trousers, allowing his erection room to breathe. They’re still kissing, though Castiel is so turned on it’s more sloppily licking inside the omega’s mouth as he rubs his erection against Dean’s thigh with reckless abandon. 

“Jesus, Cas, _fuck_ ,” Dean whines, sounding wrecked. Castiel responds by flipping Dean forcefully on the bed, facedown on the mattress as Castiel strips his boxers. Dean’s bare ass is perfect, tight and perky, slick leaking from the crack. Castiel bites at one of his cheeks, groping eagerly at the other, and Dean cries out from the sensation. 

Distantly in the back of his mind, Cas wonders if they’re moving too quickly…but his omega is beneath him wet and slick, his mattress smelling like cinnamon and omega arousal, and Castiel is so turned on that he can’t see straight. He needs to show Dean how much he cares, how much he needs him, wants him…

Before he knows it, he’s pulling out his cock from the front flap of his boxers. He just wants to run his dick through that sweet-smelling slick, wants to feel what it _could_ be like to fuck into that gorgeous, tight heat. But the minute his cock brushes against Dean’s crack, the omega freezes.

“Cas…?”

“It’s okay, omega. Let me take care of you,” Castiel purrs, knowing Dean will relax in just a moment. He’s just nervous, but he has no need to be—Castiel is here, and he’ll always take care of Dean. Dean is his omega. _His._

“You’d look perfect stretched around my knot, sweet omega,” he breathes, cock still knocking against Dean’s ass as his fingers travel down, seeking his hole—

“No, stop!” Dean cries suddenly, rising to his knees and nearly knocking Cas off-balance. Castiel blinks, his vision blurry, not understanding why Dean is reacting this way. 

“Omega—”

“Shut up,” he snaps, using the bed-sheet to cover his lower half. “Were you seriously about to fucking knot me without even _talking_ to me first?”

“What? No…no, of course not.” Castiel forces himself to stand, fighting against his urges to _fuck_ and _mate_. He rubs a hand against his forehead, thinking—was he going to knot Dean? That certainly wasn’t his intention, but he plays the whole interaction back in his head. Dean had kissed him first, greedily, thoroughly; but Castiel had deepened it, had flipped him over and taken off his boxers, had kept rutting his cock against Dean’s crack even after he felt Dean grow tense. His rational brain had known they were moving too fast, that he needed to slow down and take stock of the situation. But something—some urgent need, a blinding lust—had made him keep going.

“Oh god,” he says, devastation crashing around him like waves. He’s the problem—he’s awful, untrustworthy, like every other alpha out there. “Dean, I’m…I’m so sorry.”

Dean still eyes him wearily, but there must be something genuine about Castiel’s expression of guilt, because he mutters, “S’okay, it felt good. If you say you weren’t gonna do it, I believe you. I know what it’s like to get lost in the moment—”

“No, it’s not okay. It can never be okay when I’m not listening to you or attuned to your wishes.” Castiel shuts his eyes heavily. If he can’t even trust himself now, how could he ever knot Dean without forcing a mating bite on him? He usually has such impeccable self-control… What is wrong with him, that he seems to lose all inhibitions around Dean?

“You stopped when I asked,” Dean argues, and Castiel wants to shake him for trying to defend a disgusting alpha like him. 

“I shouldn’t have pushed you that far to begin with,” Castiel mutters miserably, feeling his stomach twist with nausea. “I promise, I’ll never…lose control like that again.” 

“No, Cas, look…” Dean tugs at his hair impatiently, as if he’s struggling to explain. “It’s not that I don’t want to one day. But if you can—just give me a little time? ‘Cause I really want to, Alpha, I promise."

“Dean…” Castiel sighs, feeling half out of his mind. “Take all the time you need. Please. That’s never been the problem.”

“Then what is the problem?” Dean demands, fist bundling in the sheets. 

“The problem?” Castiel scoffs. “The problem is—I can’t trust myself to be alone with you! Not anymore. I could scent you from the mattress, the blankets, this room… And then, when you started to slick…” 

Castiel shakes his head, tucking his softening cock back into his boxers and zipping his trousers. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” he says gravely, back practically stuck to the wall. He’s scared to get too close to Dean, scared of what he’ll do. 

“I need to get out of this room.” He swallows tightly, trying not to think of Dean being practically naked in his sweet-smelling bed.

“Cas…” Dean’s eyes are wide and pleading. “I swear, it’s okay. I’m okay. I trust you.”

“After what just transpired, that seems unwise.” Castiel chuckles darkly. “I’m horrified by my actions. If you no longer wish to see me, Dean, I’ll understand. I’m a weak, horrible alpha, unfit to be with you—”

“Hey, stop it. If I can’t talk shit about myself then you can’t either.” Dean reaches around for his boxers, slipping them on gracelessly before scooting to the inside of the bed. He pats the mattress beside him, but Castiel shakes his head, fear rising to the back of his burning throat. 

“I can’t,” he rasps.

“Cas, how are you ever gonna get used to my scent if you’re just smelling it when we’re ramped up and ready to go?” Dean pats the bed against, more forcefully this time. “Now take off your shoes and come lie down, dammit.”

Castiel still feels miserable, adrenaline making his hands shake, but he tries to mask his self-loathing for Dean’s sake. He toes off his shoes near the closed door, slips off his suit jacket, and rolls up his sleeves. He slides down to the bed, stiff as a board, but Dean buries his head against Castiel’s chest without reservation. His scent is permeating and sweet, warm and delicious, but Castiel resists the urge to relax into it, to let it fill his senses. After all, letting down his guard is how they got into this mess. 

“Will you…?” Dean’s eyelashes flutter, a blush creeping on his cheeks. 

“Will I, what?” Castiel mutters, allowing himself to lightly pat Dean on the back. His heart is still pounding out of his chest. 

“Read to me?” Dean buries his face in Castiel’s shirt, evidently embarrassed. After a moment, he raises his head and reaches for his borrowed copy of _The Fellowship of the Ring_ on the nightstand. “I read this every night before bed, but I’ve always wanted you to be here, too.”

It’s such a tender admission that some of Castiel’s anger towards himself melts. “Of course I will.” He holds the book and finds the passage where Dean’s bookmark is—at the action-packed scene at Weathertop—and he begins to read in a low, steady rumble. He loses himself in the passage, relaxing against the pillow as his hand travels to Dean’s hair. The omega still smells incredibly good, but more warm now, familiar. Cas’ cock remains soft, forgotten in his pants, and after a while he realizes he hasn’t thought about sex for a while now. Dean had been right to suggest this, Castiel thinks in amazement. Not only did he diffuse the situation, but he gave Castiel a task to do, a distraction. He thinks so quickly on his feet and is an excellent problem-solver. What a clever omega Castiel has, even if he doesn’t deserve him. 

After an hour of reading, Dean is sleeping soundly on his chest. Castiel closes the hardcover with a quiet thud, slipping out of bed with a regretful frown. There are a million reasons why he shouldn’t sleep with Dean tonight, the first and foremost being that he no longer trusts himself. But his omega is beautiful to watch, mouth parted as he breathes, looking truly peaceful—a rare sight for Dean. Castiel allows himself to leave a quick peck on Dean’s forehead, whispering goodnight, before grabbing his jacket and shoes and slipping out the door.

***

Dean wakes up early in the morning, groaning at the low throb in his head. His hand searches under the covers, but it's empty beside him. He sits up and blinks at the clock—it's not even six a.m. He fell asleep so early, between the exhausting day and being in Cas’s arms. 

He thinks back to the whole mess and groans, wondering how he’d been so stupid and selfish to bring Cas to his dad’s house. He knew it wouldn’t go well. His only consolation from the whole thing is, he’s now relatively sure John won’t come and take Sam away. Dean looks at the nightstand and sees two Tylenol and a glass of water, likely left by Cas. He swallows the pills down with a quick swig of water.

He still feels a bit foolish for freaking out the way he had the night before. He isn’t some blushing virigin, after all—he knows what sex is and has had plenty of it. Though he’s never been on the receiving end. Still, his body knows what he wants; he wishes his head would just get on board already. He doesn’t think it was even the act itself that had him hesitant, but what the act means. He needs to find a way to reassure Cas that he wasn’t, and isn’t scared of him. Nothing could be further from the truth. Cas feels like his only safe place in a dangerous fucking world. He’s never heard of an alpha stopping when an omega asked, especially a wet and aroused omega. Everything he ever learned in health class said that alphas can’t always control their urges, not when they scent an aroused or in-heat omega. Though Dean is pretty sure those textbooks were written by alphas just to excuse shitty behavior. Still, he knows Cas really does care about him…why, Dean has no idea. But who is he to look a gift horse in the mouth?

He knows it’s early and he should go back to sleep, but he slips into a pair of sleep pants and tiptoes out of the suite without waking Sam. The house is dark and quiet as he makes his way to the west wing. Climbing the stairs, he begins to smell the familiar scent of his alpha, which makes him feel immediately calmer. He creaks open the bedroom door, with only a soft light starting to show through the curtains. He looks to see Castiel sleeping on his back, stretched out across the bed. He’s in nothing but his boxers with blankets tangled around his legs.

Dean takes a minute to stare at the bare expanse of skin and marvel at just how beautiful he is. Dean isn’t sure Cas would like being called beautiful, but he looks almost ethereal in the low morning light. He walks carefully toward the side of the bed and crawls onto it, next to the slumbering alpha. Up close, he can see his furrowed brow and Dean’s quick to curl around him, nuzzling into his neck and just breathing him in.

“Deeeaan?” Castiel yawns, blinking over at him. He doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t want to talk. Instead, he tightens his hold and flops a leg over Cas, effectively pinning him down. He lets out a low purr deep in his chest as he enjoys being surrounded by Castiel’s scent. It's nearly intoxicatingly good. 

“Are you okay?” Castiel whispers into his hair.

“Sleep, Alpha,” Dean mumbles, feeling exhaustion dragging him back under. He feels lips press to the top of his head, and Cas shifts and moves till he goes still as well, falling into an easy sleep.

He wakes sometime later to the bright light filling the room, blinking around at the large bed and white fluffy blanket all around him. He sits up slowly, rubbing at his eyes, and sees Castiel standing at the foot of the bed buttoning his shirt.

“You’re up.” He smiles at Dean. “I grabbed breakfast for you.” He nods toward a tray of food sitting on the foot of the bed. It’s just bagels and a coffee, but it's toasted extra dark—just how he likes it—with whipped cream cheese.

His stomach growls at the sight as he grabs the tray. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” he mumbles, through the big bite of bagel in his mouth. Castiel chuckles at him, and he realizes how rude he just was. He swallows. “Sorry,” he mumbles sheepishly. He licks the cream cheese off his lip, not missing how Castiel’s eyes follow the movement.

“I like you just the way you are, Dean…even with deplorable eating habits.” Castiel winks at him.

“I do not have dep–dep…” He swallows around the lump of bagel traveling down his throat, coughs, and adds, “ _bad_ eating habits.” He nods with finality, taking another big messy bite of his bagel. “I just love food.” 

He shrugs, thinking how often he’d had to go without it. He doesn’t take a warm meal for granted.

“Are you feeling well enough to work today?” Cas asks him, as he begins to pick out a tie.

“Oh yeah, I’m good to go.” He gives Cas two thumbs up.

“I wasn’t sure.” Castiel starts and pauses a moment before going on. “After this morning, when you came in here, I just didn’t know if you weren’t feeling well.”

Dean grabs the tray, setting it on the nightstand, “Nah, I just figured that there was this poor lonely alpha all alone up in this big bed…and maybe he’d get cold, is all.” Dean shrugs. “It’s a public service, really.” 

“Dean this is serious…you were hurt yesterday, and then accosted by an out-of-control alpha,” Cas crosses his arms, frowning at the carpet.

“Hey, Cas look at me.” Dean leans forward, making sure to lock eyes with his alpha. “I’ll say it again, but you didn’t fuck up, man. You stopped, okay? When I asked—right away. I’m really the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

“Dean, in no universe do you have anything to apologize for… My foolish, pigheaded omega,” Castiel grumps.

Dean wants to have a good comeback, but the damn angry kitten face his alpha is wearing melts him into the bed. 

“Well, I feel pretty stupid about it anyway. I really do wanna do _that_.” Man does he ever. “But maybe you could just get over here and give me a taste of those lips instead?”

After that comment, all the warning he gets is a wicked grin before Castiel all but pounces on him. He squawks, flopping back into the white bedding laughing as Castiel's mouth is on him, kissing him hard. He lets out an undignified moan, hands grasping at whatever he can find, hips rocking up to meet Cas licking into his mouth. Hands rake through his hair, cradling his face, and he revels in the touch, in the weight of the body above him. He never wants to stop, never wants to leave. He wants to pull Cas into this bed, rip off his clothes, and fuck till they both can’t keep their eyes open anymore.

“D-Dean…” Castiel pants, pulling away as the omega lets out a low whimper at the loss. “We need to get to work, I have a meeting in ten minutes.” Castiel looks down at Dean, regret in his eyes.

He nods in agreement, leaning up for one more kiss before he lets Cas help him up and out of bed. He adjusts his bit of morning wood and steals some clothes from Castiel’s closet for the day. He’s hoping to avoid the walk of shame back to his suite, including getting called out by Sam.

They head down to their office, settling into the respective chairs. Dean rubs at his temples as he scans through Castiel’s calendar for the day. He catches Cas watching through the door. Smiling, he licks up a stray drip of coffee off his mug just a bit slower than necessary, watching the way the alpha’s Adam's apple bobs and hands tighten into fist. He can’t help but wink as Castiel gives him a half-hearted admonishing scowl. “I hate you,” the alpha mouths to him.

“No you don’t,” he mouths back, sticking out his tongue and making Cas chuckle. He revels in this quiet ease with Cas. Being able to be himself, to flirt and tease Cas, even if they can’t do it in public, is still a pretty awesome development.

“Dean!” 

He looks up to see Sam standing in front him, with a very pissed-off look on his face and the bag from their house gripped in his hand.

“Uhhh, I can explain.” Dean holds up his hands as he stands to come around the desk.

“When did you go back there?” Sam hisses at him. He sees Cas lift his head up, looking concerned. Dean gives him a flat smile before pushing his brother away from the office door.

“I went yesterday, okay?” Dean tries to keep his voice down, so he doesn’t disturb Cas.

“You saw him without me? Dean, you could have gotten hurt! What if his jackass friends were back there? What if they tried something on you?” Sam looks furious, eyes glistening. If Dean didn’t know better, he’d say his brother was fighting back tears.

“Hey, look…I’m fine, okay? It’s Dad, I know how to handle him. And I didn’t go alone. I brought Cas with me.” He puts a calming hand on Sam’s shoulder, feeling him practically shaking. “I got your stuff though, right?” He tries for a smile.

“I’d rather have you than any of this old junk.” Sam sucks in a breath, seeming to calm. “Don’t go back there without me.”

“Yeah, okay Sammy. I hear ya.” He feels his own shoulders relax when Sam’s does.

“You really okay?” Sam eyes Dean up and down, then takes in the purpling bruise on his cheek.

“I’m fine, he took a swing at me but I’m alright, see? No worse for wear.” Dean holds out his arms, as if to show his fine health. A wiggle of his eyebrows has his brother rolling his eyes and cracking a smile.

“Well, I’m just glad Cas was there.” Sam glances to the office door, dropping his voice. “I certainly hope that wasn’t your first date, though, ‘cause bringing him to Dad’s house isn’t exactly romantic, Dean,” Sam whispers with a laugh.

“It _wasn’t_ , and we aren’t dating,” Dean hisses back.

“You still trying to pretend I don’t have eyes?”

“Cas is my boss, Sam, and that's it, okay? Just leave it at that.” He crosses his arms, hating to even say the words.

“You look at him like he’s a lot more than that.” Sam crosses his own arms now, not backing down.

“Sam, you gotta just keep your trap shut, okay?” Dean finally hisses at his brother. “He still has my contract, okay? We gotta figure that shit out before we yell it from the rooftops. So, for the love of all things pie, would you please keep your pie hole shut?” Dean watches Sam’s face as he processes Dean’s words.

“Yeah, okay…you win. I won’t bring it up again.” Sam retreats, hiking the bag up on his shoulder.

“Thanks, Sammy. Now get your ass to school,” Dean grunts, pointing down the hall.

“Yeah, yeah. I have the first period free you know,” Sam shoots back, but waves over his shoulder with a small grateful smile as he goes.

Dean turns and goes to poke his head in Castiel’s office, but nearly runs right into the alpha. Castiel stumbles a moment before straightening. “I uh, I was just…” Cas throws a thumb over his shoulder, looking incredibly guilty.

“Eavesdropping?” Dean raises a brow at the alpha, enjoying watching him squirm.

“Well…I mean, you just sounded upset. I I wanted to be sure everything was okay,” Cas explains sheepishly.

“It’s fine. At ease, alpha, you're off the hook.” Dean chuckles.

“Dean? Cas?” Kevin calls, interrupting them.

“Um, can Dean help me out with my project this afternoon? I hate to ask since I know he’s got stuff to do for you, but—”

“Kevin,” Castiel holds up a hand, cutting him off, “it's perfectly fine. Dean, you don’t mind helping Kevin, do you?”

Dean nods eagerly. Even though he would miss Cas, he enjoys the work with Kevin so much more than watching Castiel’s schedule. “Not a problem. Meet you in five?”

Kevin nods and hurries off down the hall.

“Guess you’re just gonna have to miss me today.” Dean shrugs a shoulder. He plays it off as nonchalant, but really, he does kinda hope Cas misses him.

“Oh, I will miss you a great deal.” Castiel grins, wrapping a hand around the back of Dean’s neck and pulling him in to a hard, heated kiss. All too soon, though, Castiel is pulling away and nuzzling at his neck. “I promise I’m going to figure this out, Dean.”

“Hey, _we_ will figure it out, right?” He smiles up the alpha, and feels his chest fill with warmth.

Castiel nods with a sad smile, and Dean wishes he knew what else to say. 

“Go on, Kevin is waiting,” Castiel chides him. Dean reaches over for his computer, tucking it under his arm. He plants one more soft kiss on his alpha’s cheek, enjoying the heat of his skin.

“Bye, alpha,” he whispers low in Castiel’s ear, lips brushing his neck. He hears the sharp intake of breath before he flees the scene. The last thing he needs is to leak through Castiel’s borrowed trousers. Certainly not until he’s somewhere he can get the trousers off, preferably with Castiel’s teeth. Dean hurries down the hall with his mind swimming with thoughts of those cool, blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Familial violence, verbal abuse. There's an intense sexual moment between Cas and Dean where the alpha is a bit crazed from Dean's scent. He feels Dean freeze up, not realizing that the omega thinks he's about to be knotted—but as soon as Dean vocalizes his discomfort, Castiel stops. 
> 
> \--
> 
> The intensity of this chapter surprised even us, but I'm glad we got to end on a sweet note. We've got lots of fluff and angst and smut ahead!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evening, loves! Surely you've heard enough lately about the state of the world, the virus, social distancing, etc. So all we'll say is—we love you all, we're wishing you each health and safety, and we hope this chapter update gives you a little solace.
> 
> As an extra gift, our bestie and beta EllenOfOz has photoshopped an image inspired by this chapter… 
> 
> xoxo,  
> TCB & CB

Castiel slips out of the shiny black SUV, adjusting his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. It’s the early afternoon and the interstate had been backed up already, but Alfie navigated the traffic expertly. 

They’re fifteen minutes early to his appointment. Cas prefers that—likes keeping a tightly controlled schedule when possible. After being his assistant for a while, this is something Dean knows—and knows well. Which is why Cas’ phone vibrates in the pocket of his slacks the moment his absence is noticed. 

Dean 1:42 PM >> **Where’d you go, dude?**

Castiel frowns, wondering why Dean’s afternoon with Kevin went by so quickly. They’ve been working together more often lately, digging into the nuts and bolts of Castiel’s various investments. He had hoped Dean would be busy for the entire afternoon, so Cas’ trip to the downtown business district would go unnoticed. He sighs, wondering when luck had ever been on his side. Here he was, falling headfirst for a beautiful omega with his own traumatic past perpetually looming in the background. Very soon it would be the thirteenth anniversary of Jimmy’s death—unlucky indeed—and he still had no idea how to fully process his loss.

Castiel walks to the shiny skyscraper, still frowning down at Dean’s text. It’s an uncharastically warm day in late May, and he’s tempted to slip off his suit jacket, but figures this sort of meeting requires a certain level of decorum. He finds a nearby bench out front, staring down at a row of blooming tulips, and decides to call Dean. 

“Cas?” Dean answers on the second ring, sounding confused. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

A bus passes by loudly, and Dean says, “Wait—did you leave the house?”

“I did,” Castiel begins cautiously. “I’m downtown, sitting outside, which you might’ve already guessed. It’s a lovely day.” He bites his lip, looking at the sun as it streaks through the clouds. “I’d love to take you here sometime. A night out on the town.”

“Not exactly how you keep things discreet, Cas,” Dean whispers lowly, though Castiel knows he’s likely alone at his desk, with no one to eavesdrop. “But maybe someday.”

Castiel picks at a loose thread on his trousers, thinking this is exactly why he needs to have this meeting. He wants to be able to hold Dean’s hand, treat him to nice meals at exciting restaurants, kiss him as they share champagne. 

“Someday,” he agrees.

There’s a momentary pause on the line, the only sounds coming from the downtown traffic and Dean’s computer mouse, before the omega asks, “So, uh, whatcha doing down there? ‘Cause I’m looking at your calendar now, and it’s wide open.”

Castiel gulps, checking the time on from a nearby electronic billboard. He only has seven minutes before his meeting. 

“Must have been an oversight,” he mumbles, though he very intentionally did not put this meeting on his calendar. He hadn’t even told Missouri about it. 

“Must’ve been,” Dean repeats, sounding a tad suspicious now. “Who are you meeting?”

Castiel sighs, playing absently with his tie. “You won’t like it.”

Dean scoffs. “That’s reassuring.” He clears his throat, his voice gentler when he says, “Look, Cas, I know we’re…whatever we are now. But you don’t have to hide parts of your business from me, just because I won’t approve. It’s literally my job to know what’s up. And I’m not judgy.”

Castiel can’t help it—he laughs softly into the receiver. “Dean, you’re one of the best and brightest individuals I know, but you have to admit you’re a little judgmental.”

“What?” Dean asks incredulously. “No I’m not! Man, did you hear Charlie at dinner last night, invite me to go LARPing with her next weekend? I didn’t even make fun of her once!”

“Only because you’ve secretly been dying to go since the moment she mentioned it, three weeks ago,” Castiel teases. He can just imagine how Dean looks in his office right now—blushing, eyelashes fluttering. 

“Shuddup. I get to carry a sword—you know that’s cool,” Dean mumbles lightly. “Point is, I’m very open-minded.”

Castiel sighs, takes a deep breath, and checks the time. _Four minutes_. “Do you remember one of my brother’s associates, Fergus Crowley?”

“The British douchebag?”

“Yes. The meeting is with him.”

“Oh,” Dean replies, then adds in a irritated tone, “Yeah, you’re right…I guess I am judgy, ‘cause fuck that guy.” Castiel laughs again, and Dean adds, as an afterthought, “Obviously I’m kidding.”

“No, you’re not,” Castiel says evenly.

“No, I’m not,” Dean agrees quickly, and they begin to laugh again. It’s never been this easy with anyone, Castiel thinks with a smile. Conversations with Dean can be a lot of things—witty, fun, exciting, serious, heated. But never boring.

“Seriously, though, it’s okay. Do what you gotta do.” Dean pauses for a beat, then says in a quieter voice, “Just don’t keep things from me, okay?”

Guilt plummets straight into Castiel’s stomach, just thinking about _why_ he’s requested this meeting. It’s not wise to tell Dean the particulars though, not unless he comes back with good news. 

“I won’t,” he says tightly. 

“Cool, uh…thanks.” He drops his voice a pitch lower and says, “So, think we’ll get to have any—y’know—time to ourselves tonight?”

They’ve been struggling for weeks now to find openings for alone time. Now that Sam is out of school for the summer, he’s been staying up late and filling Dean’s evenings with movie marathons, junk food fests, or hours spent browsing at the combined records/comic book store. It makes Castiel’s heart full to see Sam thriving—he’s grown very fond of the youngest Winchester. Still, he’s only human, and there are nights when he wishes he could have Dean all to himself. Some of their only moments together lately have been desperate kisses shared in Castiel’s office, which generally end with them feeling on-edge and unfulfilled.

“Hopefully,” Castiel says genuinely. “I was planning to stop by my favorite bakery on the way home…perhaps I’ll get a _certain omega_ a treat or two…”

“Pie?” Dean asks excitedly. 

“We’ll see,” Castiel answers coyly. 

“Well, might be time to firm up that plan, sweetheart… ’Cause bringing pie home instantly equals good times for you.”

Castiel grins like an idiot, loving how domestic this whole conversation is. He allows himself to imagine, just for a moment, that they’re a regularly mated couple discussing their nighttime plans. Maybe Dean would cook, Castiel would bring home baked goods for dessert, and they’d fall into bed early, eager to take each other’s clothes off. 

“Mmm, is that so?”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Dean says eagerly, “that’s so.”

Castiel glances up at the time again— _2:05._ Shit, he’s officially late now. “Dean, I have to go. See you soon?”

“Yeah, Cas, see you.” 

He ends the call and books it inside the building, waiting for the elevator—which is apparently moving at a glacial speed. Waiting only gives him more time to think about Dean, and how he lost such track of time on the phone just now that he’s going to be late for an appointment for the first time in years. 

At least they have mornings. After that first morning where Dean snuck into Castiel’s bed, they’ve made it somewhat of a habit, arranging for Castiel to come see Dean every morning before anyone else is up. Sam’s door is always shut and Dean is often still in his pajamas, just boxers and a t-shirt, his skin warm with sleep. It’s only around twenty minutes of uninterrupted alone time, but at least it’s something, and it’s time Castiel has come to treasure. Each morning now he embraces his omega, indulges in his heavenly scent, and worships Dean’s body in every suitable way—massages, kisses, the occasional hickey on his collarbone. 

It’s risky behavior—what excuse could Cas produce, were anyone to find him exiting Dean’s bedroom at six-thirty in the morning?—but it’s helped them both feel at ease, having this sacred time each morning. Plus, Castiel is growing more and more accustomed to Dean’s scent. They haven’t been truly intimate since the night they visited Lawrence, when Castiel’s inner alpha took over and nearly ruined things between them. Castiel still has his reservations, his fears for Dean’s safety and his own inability to keep a clear head around his omega. But Dean has no such hangups, and has made it quite clear that he’s impatiently waiting the return of Cas’ “amazing fucking hand on his cock.” Dean’s words, of course. 

Pushing back all inappropriate thoughts of Dean, Castiel power-walks onto the elevator and to the twelfth floor. It’s 2:07 once he arrives, and he spots in gold, cursive letters on the glass door: _Fergus Crowley, J.D., LL.M., .S.D., Esquire_. Castiel wonders fleetingly if Crowley actually attended that many years of advanced law training, or if he simply bought himself honorary degrees. It’s the sort of snarky comment that Dean would’ve loved, and Castiel chuckles and pushes forward inside, letting the receptionist know he’s here. Eventually he’s escorted down a dark, mahogany hallway, and into a spacious office with an ornate window and fireplace. Sitting behind the desk in a ridiculously expensive suit is Crowley.

“Castiel,” Crowley greets, standing up momentarily, just long enough to shake hands. Castiel shakes back on instinct, sliding into a padded leather armchair. 

“Crowley,” he greets mildly. 

“I must say,” the Brit begins, a sparkle of mischief evident in his eyes, “I was pleasantly surprised to see your name appear on my calendar. It’s so rare I get to charge you money for simple legal advice, so I cherish this opportunity to pocket a small sliver of your fortune.”

Castiel snorts, thinking— _well, at least he’s honest_. “I wasn’t sure who else to turn to,” he admits quietly, feeling at a distinct disadvantage and hating the feeling. 

“Well, here I am.” Crowley opens his arms with a flourish. “Though, after you practically tossed me out of your home, I’m shocked you trust me.”

“Oh, I do not trust you,” Castiel says plainly. “Nor do I agree with your politics, your business methods, or any opinion you hold.”

“I love when we can be so open with each other. It truly feels like a bond of friendship is finally forming,” Crowley says dryly. “Want to come over to my place later? I’m excellent at pillow talk.”

“Another time, perhaps,” Castiel answers, equally dry. He pauses, staring down at his empty hands, entwining his fingers together. “Now that I’m considered a client, I can count on you for privacy and discretion?”

“Ah, yes, that pesky client confidentiality agreement. I do abide by that, unfortunately.” 

Crowley opens a drawer and begins to pour himself a drink from a glass decanter, the dark liquid sliding into the lowball glass. He tips it in Castiel’s direction, but the alpha shakes his head. 

Crowley shrugs, takes a long sip, and says, “Well, Cas? Not that I don’t love the foreplay, but let’s get to the main event, shall we?”

Castiel bites his lip, pictures Dean’s broad smile in his head, and says in a rush, “I’d like to break Dean Winchester’s contract.”

“Oh? Unhappy with your mouthy little omega already?”

Castiel tightens his grip on the polished, wooden armrest. “No, quite the opposite. I no longer wish to hold Dean’s contract. I’d like…” He bites his lip, staring at a particularly shiny spot on the hardwood floor. “My intention is for Dean to hold his own contract, with the debt between us void. I’m willing to pay any sum of money to make this happen.”

Crowley whistles loudly. “Oh, Castiel, two questions… One, when did you first let Winchester fuck you?” He leans forward, grinning lewdly. “Two, when you roleplay, do you call him ‘alpha’?” 

Castiel stands suddenly, irritation pouring out of him, edging towards rage. He should’ve never come here—surely cold-calling other local lawyers would be better than enduring this filth. 

“Pleasant as always, Crowley,” Castiel snaps, grabbing his briefcase and heading for the door. “Have your receptionist bill me.”

“Wait,” Crowley says, voice harsh and firm. Castiel turns around slowly, his jaw set tight, his teeth grinding. 

“Yes?”

“You’re charged by the hour, is all.” Crowley shrugs noncommittally, pouring another drink—a rich amber brown. Scotch, perhaps. “Might as well get your money’s worth.”

Castiel grips his briefcase handle, wondering if it’s possible to snap leather in half. “No more derogatory talk about Dean. He deserves your respect.”

Crowley rolls his eyes dramatically. “This omega must have a magic—”

Castiel hears growling in the room, and it takes a moment before he realizes it’s coming from him. 

Crowley’s eyebrows shoot up, but he takes another long sip of his drink and says, “I assume you brought a copy of the contract?”

Wary, Castiel sits back down, sliding a manilla folder from his briefcase. He’s brought a copy of the contract—of course he has—and passes it to Crowley with his guard up high. The other alpha takes the printed copy and pores over it, reading intently, even reaching for a pretentious looking fountain pen and scribbling notes. Castiel struggles to contain his surprise—he’s been in some form of business with the lawyer for a decade, and this the most work he’s ever seen him do firsthand. Castiel actually begins to feel more confident about his chances of succeeding, of walking out of here with good news to tell Dean, when Crowley’s head snaps up. 

“Where’s the other one?” 

“The…other one?” Castiel repeats cautiously. 

Crowley sighs, long-suffering. “Your contract with Roman. Winchester’s employment was part of your business dealings, an item added on during negotiations.”

Castiel leans forward, eyebrows knit together. “But I own Dean’s contract.”

A sigh falls from Crowley’s lips. “And I guarantee you that Roman has stipulations for this ‘asset’ that you acquired. Get me those papers.”

It takes one call to Missouri and several minutes for her to scan and email over the contract, but thirty minutes into his meeting with Crowley, the lawyer is leaned over the large computer monitor on his desk, reading eagerly. The Brit has a frown on his face, deep-set and worried, and Castiel has never seen a more terrifying sight. 

“Well?” he asks impatiently. He hasn’t read this contract in months—to be honest, his contracts with Roman are always so standard, it’s likely their dozenth one at this point. They’re always cut and dry. 

“One question, and you can’t fly off in an alpha tizzy.” Crowley tears his eyes off his screen, folding his hands on the surface of the desk. “I know you’ve got ‘pitcher’ written all over you, but are you sure you don’t secretly like catching, dear? Because Dick Roman has thoroughly fucked you.”

Panic floods Castiel’s insides, his palms sweating. “What the hell are you talking about, Crowley?”

“The asset. Let’s just say it has a no-cancellation policy.” Crowley clicks his together, one hand running through his facial hair. “At least, not one that doesn’t revert back to the original creditor.”

Castiel’s blood runs cold. “You can’t mean…”

“I’m afraid I do, darling. If you try to break this contract prematurely, our young, spirited, devilishly handsome Mister Winchester is reverted back to the servitude of the most handsome Dick in town. Well, present company excluded.”

Castiel pushes himself up and out of the chair, pacing around the back corner of Crowley’s office. “No, no…there has to be another way.”

“Ah, well, there is.”

Castiel stops in his tracks. “Name it.”

“If Winchester pays the original debt, with interest, all of this goes away and the contract is null and void.” 

“Thank god,” Castiel sighs. “That was only…what? Sixty thousand? Eighty thousand?” He strides back to his briefcase, searching for his checkbook. “I’ll mail him a check first thing tomorrow.”

“Oh, Castiel, ever the optimistic.” Crowley leans back in his chair, straightening his tie. “The contract excludes payouts, on-tick sums—”

“It wouldn’t be a line of credit,” Castiel says sharply. “It’s a…gift.”

“Still wouldn’t originate from the principle borrower, which in the case is Dean Winchester, standing in for John Winchester. It’s a nasty little clause loan sharks like Roman take particular joy in including, preventing the borrower from simply using another handout to cover their debt.” 

Castiel glares a hole into the back wall of Crowley’s office. “You’re saying Dean has to work for me for two years, or come up with the money on his own? I can’t help him?”

Crowley wags a finger in his direction. “He _can_ be taught.”

Castiel’s checkbook falls weakly from his hands. “And if I took this to another lawyer in town…?”

“They’d tell you the same, ‘m 'fraid.” He fingers the decanter of Scotch. “And as much as I normally thrive under the ‘bearer of bad news’ bit, you might want a stiff drink for what I have to tell you next.”

Castiel’s eyes widen, heart pounding in his chest. “What could possibly be worse than this?”

Crowley doesn’t answer until he’s poured a long, full glass of liquor, sliding it in Castiel’s direction. “It’s nothing, apart from…”

He makes an impatient hand motion, and Castiel grumbles in aggravation, grabbing his glass of Scotch.

“Did you break your daft little ‘no omega’ rule for him?” Castiel’s eyes knit together in confusion, stalling a bit, and the Brit rolls his eyes. “Have you fucked him?”

Cas freezes, staring down at his hands and trying not to look guilty. He hasn’t, not technically, but their relationship is fair from platonic at this point. 

“That’s none of your business,” he says noncommittally. 

Crowley makes a _tsk tsk_ sound. “It just might be. According to this, if Roman receives evidence that you and Winchester’s relationship goes beyond the buttoned-up professionalism of a pristinely clean white-collar contract, then…” He polish off his drink, saying in a rush, “that will also strip you of your ‘retention of the asset.’”

Castiel is fairly certain he can’t breathe. Normally he can comprehend legalise easily, but with Dean potentially in jeopardy, it feels like his brain is sinking in quicksand. “Does that mean…?”

“It means if you’re caught exchanging anything more than a handshake, Winchester will be back in the servitude of Dick Roman faster than you can say ‘please, sir, don’t take my precious omega away’.”

Castiel feels it then—the glass slipping from his hand, colliding with the hardwood, expensive liquor pooling at his feet. He asked Dean this once, just weeks ago, after their first kiss. But he’s never meant it more than he does now, a question thundering in his head. 

_What have I done?_

***

Dean gathers up the stack of invoices he was going through with Kevin, and slots them into the newly labeled folders. He likes cleaning things up and making them neat…it helps keep his mind off things, like why his alpha is acting so distant. 

It’s been a few days since Cas’ mysterious meeting he didn’t put on his calendar. Dean tries not to be that guy, that suspicious partner. He isn’t, not really, he knows Cas isn’t messing around with anyone else. They hadn’t talked about being exclusive, but Dean knows it’s implied…of course it is. He has no explanation, though, for why Cas is avoiding him.

“Say, did you take a look at those online classes I sent yesterday?” Kevin asks, snapping Dean out of his thoughts.

“Um, yeah. I took a look but…” Dean shrugs. “I dunno, school has never really been my strong suit.”

Suddenly he hears a loud scoffing sound and turns to see Sam leaning in the doorway, a peanut butter and banana sandwich half-eaten on his plate. “You did great in school when you had time for it. Only reason you couldn’t finish was because you were too busy taking care of Dad and me. What classes are you thinking?” Sam walks into the room, setting down his sandwich and looking at the laptop Kevin turns to him.

“Well, I was thinking he could look at accounting classes, or a business major, maybe even something in the math or sciences.” Kevin smiles warmly at both the brothers and Dean can feel the heat creeping up onto his cheeks.

“That all sounds really…really…” He struggles for the word. “See, I’m not even smart enough _to come up with the word_ to describe these nerdy classes,” he grumbles, crossing his arms.

“Stop with that shit, okay? You're just scared of failing, but you won’t fail Dean, not if you try.” Sam nods sagely, and while Dean is annoyed, he’s also a little touched his brother cares so much.

He turns to look at the screen, focusing on the one program he’s been secretly obsessing over.

“Having a party and didn’t invite the old man, I see?” A rough voice catches his attention, and he looks up to see Castiel with a warm smile gracing his lips. Dean still senses just a hint of worry there, one he still can’t place or get Cas to own up to. “I was finished for the day, thought I would see if you needed any help moving those files.”

Dean knows it's a bullshit excuse—the box with the files doesn’t weigh much, he can easily carry it. He smiles a little, though, just knowing his alpha wants to see him.

“Trying to talk Dean here into picking some classes to take,” Kevin chimes in. 

“But according to Dean he’s too stupid for any of these,” Sam adds with a knowing smirk.

Dean hunches his shoulders in, feeling the disapproving glare on Castiel’s face without having to look up. He stares resolutely at his shoes. 

“Well, he may be stubborn and self-deprecating, but he is anything but stupid.” Castiel lets out a long sigh and walks over to the laptop. All three of them are hunched over it now, pointing out different areas of study.

Dean isn’t sure why he’s resisting this so much. It's a great opportunity. He needs to find a way to support himself after all this is over, and the last thing he wants to do is end up stuck with his dad at the shop the rest of his life. He looks over to see Castiel watching him, blue eyes searching, and he wonders what the man sees when he looks at Dean. He knows what he sees when he looks at Castiel—the warmth and compassion there, the sharp wit and ability to keep Dean on his toes. The alpha’s soft look turns sad again the longer he looks at Dean, and for the life of him, Dean can’t figure out why.

“Do none of these appeal to you?” Castiel asks in a cautious tone.

“Well, I mean, one of them kinda looked interesting.” He bites his lip, and suddenly three sets of eyes are zeroed in on him.

“You just gonna leave us on a cliffhanger there?” Kevin asks, rolling his eyes.

“The nonprofit business management one seemed cool, I guess.”

Castiel and Kevin looked surprised, if not a bit confused, Sam, however, is suddenly looking at the floor with his shaggy mop of hair falling in his face. “Probably a dumb idea, huh? Get a degree and learn how to _not_ make a profit.” Dean huffs an awkward laugh.

“No not all, I’m sure it could be very rewarding,” Castiel answers quickly.

“Yeah man, that could be really cool,” Kevin adds, encouraging as well.

Dean watches his brother now, and Sam finally meets his eyes. 

“You _did_ promise,” Sam’s answers, and it's true. Dean never thought he could fulfill that promise, but maybe he can.

“Promise?” Castiel asks, looking between the brothers.

Dean glances at Sam for help, who just seems to know what he needs. His young brother reaches over to grab the box of files. 

“Come on, Kevin, let's bring these down to storage.” Sam gives his brother a proud smile before leading the way out of the room, a confused-looking Kevin on his heels. They close the door behind them.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Castiel says, filling the silence once they’re alone.

“There's not that much to tell.” Dean watches the alpha’s face, so open and curious as he moves to stand in front of Dean. Raising a hand, Cas brushes the back of his fingers along Dean’s jaw. Dean leans into the touch until Castiel is cupping his face. He feels the shift, like spinning wheels within him coming to a gentle stop. Just being near this man settles him in a way nothing else does. 

“There was this non-profit when I was a kid—they delivered meals to families who needed them. There were a few times when Dad would disappear on a bender and we wouldn’t have any food in the house. I could always go there and get something for Sam and me, at least until they shut down when I was thirteen or so. They had trouble getting funding, something like that. I never let Sam go hungry, you know, I always found a way.” Dean needs Cas to know that, that he never let his brother go without. What he leaves unspoken is how often he went to bed on an empty stomach. “It just bothered me, thinking of all the other people they helped who wouldn’t get it anymore. On our last pick up, Sam and I promised each other if we ever had a chance to pay that help forward, we would. Just seemed like the right thing to do.”

It's quiet for a while and Dean finally ventures a look at Castiel’s face, his blue eyes shining with unshed tears. He raises his own hands to hold Cas’ face and brushes away a stray tear with his thumb. 

“Hey now, it's okay.” Dean leans in and plants a soft kiss to the alpha’s lips. It takes a moment for Castiel to kiss him back, but when he does he’s hungry for it—pressing him back against the desk, hands clutching at his dress shirt. Dean isn’t sure what's going on with Cas…he hasn’t come to Dean’s room the past two mornings. He almost forgot how good the alpha tastes.

Dean lets out a low whimper when Castiel’s hands drop to his waist, fingers teasing along the edge of his belt. He bucks up against him, but Castiel only presses him harder back against the wood. Castiel’s hands yank on his belt pulling them together as his mouth moves down the column of his neck. Dean’s whole body sings as those lips move closer to his scent glands, his inner omega screaming at him to submit to this alpha. It feels a little like flying when he’s kissing Cas, like he's miles above everything and nothing can touch them.

“My omega,” Castiel whispers against his skin.

“Alpha,” is all Dean’s lust-addled mind can supply. A soft banging in the distance startles them and suddenly Castiel is launching himself off of Dean and stumbling away. Dean blinks at him, looking at the closed door but no one is there—no one would see them.

“Sorry Dean I…I shouldn’t have done that when someone could walk in,” Cas says on a shaky breath. 

“Hey, it’s okay, alright? No one saw,” he says, trying to reassure Cas. He hates this sneaking around thing, and he wonders if Cas made any progress looking into changing Dean’s contract. He trusts Cas will tell him if he figures anything out—what choice does he have?

“If you're really interested in charity work, I may have a task for you,” Castiel replies, straightening up and acting like nothing had just happened between them. It makes Dean feel strangely empty when Cas gets like this. “My brother started a charity through our corporation, and every year we have a large ball to raise money for it. Jimmy always organized it, but since then…since then Missiouri has taken over. Would you be interested in helping her with it? It's only two weeks away.”

“A ball…like with penguin suits and fancy hors d'oeuvres and shit?” Dean thought that shit only happened in the movies.

“Yes, just like that. We host it in the summer so we can use the outdoor space. Normally Jimmy would pick the different organizations he thought could use the money best, or set up a silent auction…that sort of thing. It's a lot of work.” Castiel raises a brow, obviously offering him an out.

“Well, I don’t know shit about fancy parties…but I’m sure I can figure it out.” Dean is already thinking of a few local places he thinks could use the help.

“I’ll let Missiouri know, then,” Cas adds, with a stiff smile.

“Hey, is everything okay with you?” Dean can’t help but ask, taking a step closer and not missing how Cas takes a step back. “I thought we were, ya know, trying this out with us?” he whispers the last part, terrified that Cas might reject him…again.

“We are, we just need to be careful, Dean…very careful, okay?” Cas looks almost pained. Dean just nods, still feeling like his alpha is turning him away even if that's not what he’s saying. He swallows down the bad feeling best he can.

“Come on, let's go see what's for dinner.” Dean puts on his best smile, and it must be good enough because Cas returns it before following him out toward the kitchen.

Dinner is a quiet affair, Castiel seemingly lost in thought and Dean unsure of what to say. Everyone else has already eaten so it's just the two of them. He takes a chance and slips his hand under the table to rest on Castiel’s knee, giving it gentle squeeze. Fingers find his own, lacing them together, and he glances over to see a soft sad smile on Castiel’s face. Dean can’t smell Cas, but every part of him is screaming that something is wrong. Dean desperately wants to fix it.

He opens his mouth to say something when Cas pushes back from his chair, grabbing their empty plates. “You should get some rest, Dean. We have that early call with London in the morning.”

He watches the back of the alpha as he moves about the kitchen, head dipped, and Dean can tell he’s hiding something from him. He’s decided to trust Castiel, and maybe what he needs now is a little space. He moves toward him and Cas doesn’t turn around to look at him. Letting out a soft sigh, Dean just leans forward, planting a soft kiss on the nape of the man’s neck, feeling him tremble. “Good night, Cas,” he whispers softly, feeling an ache in his chest as he flees the kitchen. 

He finds Sam playing a video game in his room and decides not to disturb him. He takes a shower to try and wash off the day, changing into some sweats and a t-shirt. Then he grabs a tub of ice-cream from the freezer and plops down on his couch to stew. He finds some old reruns of _Dr. Sexy MD_ and settles in, hoping to get a much-needed distraction. Three episodes in and Sam is already asleep, but Dean feels anything but tired. His mind is still racing with Castiel’s recent behavior. He can’t stay in the suite anymore—his body is too restless and he needs to move.

Walking down the hall, he immediately makes a beeline for the library. It's become his favorite spot in the house to just clear his head. As he slowly opens the heavy oak door, he hears a muffled sound coming from inside. He cautiously peeks his head into the room. It's bathed in moonlight, giving the room a soft blue glow to it. He hears something close to a sniffle, and looks toward the couches to see a mop of dark hair sticking up.

Castiel.

He decides to leave the light off as he carefully makes his way toward the alpha. The moonlight illuminates the outline of a mostly empty vodka bottle sitting on the table in front of him. Dean can smell the alcohol on the air, mingled with the scent of his alpha. _His alpha in pain._ The smell hits him like a freight train. Castiel has obviously showered off his blockers as well, and the scent causes a physical twist to Dean’s gut.

“Cas,” he whispers, not wanting to startle the man.

“D-Dean? You should be in bed,” Castiel mumbles, his voice sounding tight and wrecked.

Dean moves around the couch, trying to get a look at his alpha’s face but he’s staring at his lap, face in shadow. 

“What's going on, baby?” Dean asks, crouching down in front of him, heart pounding in his chest with a need to help his alpha.

Castiel sucks in a few ragged breaths and finally looks to meet Dean’s eyes. His face is streaked with tears, and Dean feels his own eyes begin to fill just at the sight of them. He looks and sees a picture frame clasped in his hands. Dean can’t make it out in the low light, but it seems to be two young boys.

“S-sorry, I should be over this by now.” Castiel runs a finger over the frame.

“Over what?” Dean asks, reaching up to cup his stubbled cheek.

“Jimmy. It's been thirteen years today. It shouldn’t…it shouldn’t still hurt so bad.” Castiel gasps in a breath, tossing the frame aside. Suddenly Castiel’s mood the past few days makes complete sense. Dean isn’t sure what to do, so going on instinct, he crawls up into his alpha’s lap. He wraps his arms tightly around him and pulls Castiel’s face into the crook of his neck, a hand carding through his wild tangle of hair. Castiel draws in a deep breath against his skin before letting out a long sigh, sinking deeper into the couch.

“I’m so sorry, alpha,” Dean whispers to him, stroking at his hair and nuzzling in close, letting their combined scent swirl and fill the air around them. Castiel’s body seems to settle, muscles relaxing.

“Omega, my sweet omega,” Castiel hums softly, and Dean feels Castiel’s hardening cock begin to press up against his balls. He’s shocked to find his own cock hardening as the subtle scent of arousal seeps into their combined scent. Taking a chance, he rubs up against Castiel and feels strong hands gripping his hips. He lets out a low moan.

Face still buried against his alpha’s neck, he begins to roll his hips, rocking back and forth and feeling his body begin to slick. It feels incredible, the scent of pain ebbing away and being filled with a warm sense of _desire_ and _mate_. He feels the harsh brush of stubble along his soft skin and it sets his nerves on fire. He wants to take the pain away, wants to make this better for his alpha.

“Alpha,” he whispers, enjoying the low growl Castiel gives as his hips buck up to meet him. He sinks a hand down below the waistband of Castiel’s sleep pants and wraps his fingers around his hard cock. “That’s it, I’ve got you, Cas.” He begins to pull and stroke in time with each roll of his hips. His own cock is straining in his pants, but all he wants right now is to get his alpha off. Castiel lets out a needy whimper as Dean blankets him with his body and scent.

“Dean, oh Dean,” Castiel pants, leaving sloppy wet kisses all along Dean’s neck and jaw like he can’t get enough. Dean wants to be consumed by this man, to see him break apart. He pulls his hand off the hard, throbbing cock stifling Castiel’s protests in a kiss. He sinks his hand into the back of his pants, slicking up his fingers before he dives them back in to grip his alpha right around his swelling knot.

“That’s it, baby—come for me—come on, alpha,” Dean grunts out between kisses, his slick-hand gripping and stroking along Castiel’s shaft. The sweet scent of buttery sugar and Castiel’s deep woodsy bouquet make his head feel light as air. This feels right, this feels like exactly where he belongs, in his alpha’s arms. Why the fuck was he ever anywhere else?

“Castiel!” he begs, and with a final twist of his hand he feels his alpha lock up, come shooting over his fingers all hot and wet. His own cock is practically throbbing where it’s trapped in his pants, but for once in his life he couldn’t care less about getting off.

“Mine…you’re mine, alpha,” Dean purrs softly, feeling it vibrate in his throat. Castiel is blinking up at him with groggy, post-orgasm eyes.

“Yours, I’m yours, baby,” he whispers back, and they hold each other in the low moonlight, safe in this moment with each other. Castiel clutches him close, and says just under his breath, “What are we going to do?”

Dean isn’t sure what he means and pulls back to look at him. His eyes are still shining, with that same sad smile across his face. “Cas?”

“Thank you, Dean.” He kisses him on the tip of his nose. “Come, let’s go get cleaned up, and maybe—” Castiel hesitates a moment. “Maybe you can stay with me tonight? If we’re careful?”

“Yeah, alpha, let’s go to bed.” Despite his misgivings Dean crawls off the alpha, offering him his clean hand to hold as they sneak off for the west wing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, y'all…angst, smut, fluff. This combo is our FAVE. Lots more to come!
> 
> \--
> 
> We'll trying our best to keep our weekly Wednesday posting schedule, but with everything that's going on, don't worry if we miss a week or two. We love this story so much and are always working hard on it, but sometimes life gets in the way.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello, our little loves. We're back with another chapter of these guys, and are happy to provide some more escapism from the outside world.
> 
> This chapter begins very intensely, so please heed the content warning in the end notes (if needed). Full disclosure, though, since it's pretty obvious from the start: the chapter begins with a very vivid and visceral nightmare from Cas. If you want to skip this scene altogether, the entire dream is formatted in italics. 
> 
> xoxo,  
> CB & TCB

_Dean arches his back, a drop of sweat rolling down his shoulder blades. He’s unclothed, on all-fours, chest panting. Castiel feels his blood pressure spike, the sight of his omega making his mouth run dry. Dean is beautiful, an absolute vision, more stunning than he could’ve ever imagined. He takes a step forward, eager to touch, to taste…_

_And that’s when he hears it. The slap of a whip._

_Dean cries out in pain, face contorted with agony._

_“Dean!” he yells, voice breaking. His heart races for an entirely different reason as he runs towards his omega, eyes searching for the attacker. He spots him easily—a man in a gray suit stands behind Dean, gripping the handle of a long leather whip._

_“I told you to present, bitch,” Dick Roman bites out, bringing the whip back down with a sudden crack. Dean screams, wheezing as he struggles to recover his breath. Castiel drops to his knees, reaching his arms over Dean—but his hands go right through him. It’s as if Castiel is invisible, a ghost unable to intercede._

_“I–I am,” Dean whimpers._

_“You are, what?” Roman bites out._

_“I am, sir.” Dean manages to sound somewhat disgruntled, even fiery and sarcastic—a spark of the old omega Castiel knows so well._

_“Dean,” Castiel pleads, his heart pounding out of his chest, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “Dean…what’s happened to you? Why can’t you see me?”_

_But Dean just blinks and stares down at the floor, recoiling at the sound of Dick’s belt suddenly coming undone. Either he’s about to get beat more, or be raped right before Castiel’s eyes. Righteous rage fills the alpha down to his bones. He can’t let this happen—he won’t, he would never. He’d rather die protecting Dean than let something so horrid happen to someone he, someone he…_

_“Cas,” Dean croaks a reverent tone, like a whispered prayer. For a moment, Castiel’s anger becomes incredulous, even hopeful—Dean can hear him! “Cas, please, help me…”_

_“Dean!” he shouts, bent over, trying his damndest to make eye contact. But it’s no use…Dean won’t meet his eyes. It’s as if Cas isn’t there, not really._

_“Thought I trained you out of calling your old alpha’s name, you fucking slut,” Dick snaps, face twisted in irritation. “That’ll earn you ten more.”_

_He raises his arm again, posed and ready to swing the whip. Castiel lunges forward, intending to stop Roman somehow, some way._

_But within an instant he’s gone, evaporated, the images of a naked, abused Dean scorched in his memory like burn marks. Roman is gone, too. In their place stands Castiel at seventeen…but no, no, this isn’t Castiel…_

_“Jimmy?”_

_“Castiel.” Jimmy looks so young, so disappointed, shaking his head ruefully as a tear falls down his cheek. “Why didn’t you save him?”_

Castiel opens his eyes with a start, tangled in the sheets and sweaty. His heart is racing, his eyesight blurry. He hears someone calling his name, but he’s breathing too hard to listen, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

“Castiel, honey, you’re okay,” Missouri says cautiously. Her face comes into view finally, short dark hair curly and combed back. She perches on the side of Castiel’s bed, placing a calming hand over his forehead. “You back with me?”

“I…” Castiel’s throat is so dry he can barely speak. The portrait of Roman standing behind his omega…the sounds of the whip… _Dean screaming in pain._ “Apologies. I seem to have had a nightmare.”

Missouri snorts a little, though her worry never fades. “I’ll say.” She reaches behind his head, touching a weathered old dream catcher hanging off the bedpost. “Whoever gave you this oughta get their money back.”

Castiel manages a weak chuckle, rearranging the sheet twisted around his torso. “A gift from Dean.” Missouri gives him a meaningful glance, so Castiel stares down at his hands and continues. “He, well…I mentioned my recent nightmares to him, and he offered this old dream catcher. Something his brother made for him years ago.”

It’s partly the truth. Dean had witnessed the nightmares firsthand after staying with Castiel on the anniversary of Jimmy’s death. It’s been four days since then, and the dreams have just become more intense, more vivid and gruesome. Dean hasn’t witnessed the worst of the aftermath, thank goodness, but he’s seen enough to wake Castiel up in the middle of the night, a soft hand gripping his neck as the omega breathes calm reassurances in his ear. 

It was just last night that Dean loaned Castiel his dream catcher, a touching gift that Castiel had not accepted lightly. He has such a pure, blinding faith in his relationship with Dean that he hoped the trinket might actually be comforting enough to work. 

It hadn’t.

“Mhm,” Missouri says, casting a doubtful smirk in Castiel’s direction. “You ‘mentioned’ them to Dean, did you?”

Castiel grips the mattress, avoiding her gaze. Could she somehow have seen them, coming to and from each other’s rooms? He nods dumbly, wondering how to change the subject. 

“Were you looking for me?” he asks eventually, sliding out of bed and wanting very much to head into the bathroom. The thought of a cold shower washing away the horrifying images singed inside his brain seems too good to be true. 

“I was. Even for a Saturday, you overslept, sugar.” She casts him a small smile, and that’s when Castiel notices—she’s out of her standard business casual attire, and is sporting a long pair of shorts and a tank top. “You’re about to miss the pool party.”

Castiel snorts, shaking his head lightly. For years now, the Harvelles have thrown a pool party for the staff on the first weekend in June. It’s always been a celebrated event, with an impressive buffet of summer food, all-day swimming, and coolers of chilled beer. For someone like Castiel—who perpetually struggles with the impulse to keep his head down and keep working—it’s the perfect way to get his mind off of business. Lately, it’s been working a little too well. Despite his best efforts, just the promise of Dean poolside, freckles dusting his cheeks as he laughs in the midday sunlight, has distracted him for days. 

“Well, we can’t have that,” he says noncommittally. “Tell everyone to get started without me… I’ll just be a moment.”

“Sure thing. I’ll tell Dean you’ll be right down,” she says casually, turning on her heels. 

Panic floods Castiel, though, and he blurts out, “Why would…why would _he_ want to know?”

“Because _he_ asked about you,” she replies suspiciously, as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. Before the alpha can even sigh in relief, she adds, “And because it’s _his_ name you were calling out in your dreams.” 

Dread drops into Castiel’s stomach, and he opens his mouth to fabricate an excuse. But she just raises a hand in silence. “No, it’s okay, you don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. Just know that everyone in this house will protect him, and protect you, that much I know. But I read your contract with Dick Roman, too, Castiel. I know the stakes are high, honey… And I know for an omega that some fates are worse than death.”

Without another word, she casts him a sympathetic frown and turns to close his bedroom door, leaving Castiel with the last thing he wants to be alone with. 

_His thoughts._

***

Twenty minutes later, Castiel drags himself downstairs. The kitchen is bustling with people, many of which give him comical wolf whistles as he comes into view. He feels foolish dressed this way, as he does each summer when he’s forced out of his standard suit and tie. Still, the pool opening is a good boost to morale, something he could benefit from at the moment. He’s donned blue swim trunks, a gray t-shirt that must’ve shrunk a little in the dryer, and a pair of water-resistant flip flops with aviator sunglasses perched on his head.

“Looking good, boss!” Charlie calls over her shoulder, a flowy dress pulled over her own swimwear. 

“Thanks,” Castiel mumbles, leaning against the doorway as he watches everyone move about. Jo is loading beer into a cooler while Kevin tosses chips into oversized bowls. Ellen is passing containers of package burgers and hot dogs to Sam, who seems to be talking animatedly about a documentary he recently watched on the corruption of the meat industry. 

“Yeah, Cas, haven’t I told you that—at _your_ age—it’s not fair for you to be in better shape than me?” Kevin jokes.

That earns a small laugh from the alpha, and he shakes his head. “Remind me to give you all raises. You’re good for an old man’s ego.”

Missouri passes by the kitchen then, holding what seems to be boxes of blowup pool floats. “Honey, you think _you’re_ old? Come and find me in ten or fifteen years, then we’ll talk.”

“What she said,” Ellen adds, hooking her thumb over her shoulder and pointing in Missouri’s direction.

“Apologies.” Castiel puts his hands up in peaceful surrender, then looks at everyone busy with a task and says, “Anything I can do to help?”

“You can use some of that hot air to blow up these floats?” Missouri suggests with a smirk, her tone light and full of sarcasm. Charlie laughs at their banter and walks by, mentioning that she’s heading into the laundry room to gather up a stack of pool towels.

“An enticing offer,” Castiel replies, his tone dry. 

“Oh, hey, I saw an air pump in the garage—I’ll go grab it!” Sam offers, then looks down at the stack of packaged food in his hands and frowns. “Um, Cas, maybe you could…?”

“Of course.” Castiel accepts the task gladly, shuffling the contents into his hands as Ellen tells him, “Go ahead and take those to the grill. And tell Dean to stop messing around and dry off already. He’s on grill duty.”

Opening the patio door a moment later proves somewhat challenging, considering how full his hands are, but Castiel manages it. It’s a pleasant day—warm without being hot, the sky a light blue. Joshua truly outdid himself this year. The flowerbeds are manicured to perfection, an array of petals blooming bright and colorful. It’ll be a lovely sight for next weekend’s charity ball, and Castiel already anticipates finding quiet solace in nature once his house is overtaken by guests. He’s never been a socialite, and honestly dreads these events.

The door finally shuts behind him and Castiel turns his attention to the pool, searching for Dean. He’s only halfway to the grill when the omega pulls himself from the water, grinning broadly at Castiel and ambling slowly up the steps. Water droplets run down his face and he wipes at them absently, the muscles in his biceps pronounced, his stomach mostly flat and toned, though soft in some places too…that perfect omega curvature accentuated by the dip of his lower back. He’s wearing a sinfully tight pair of red swim trunks, his package snug and noticeable against the tight polyester. He looks good enough to eat, Castiel thinks, his mouth suddenly dry. Dean is the absolute embodiment of youth and joy and _lust_ , and Castiel just gapes at him openly, frozen in place as Dean walks towards him. 

“Heya, Cas,” Dean greets, grinning ear to ear. He stops right in front of Castiel, their feet nearly touching. 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel manages, trying not to notice how green the omega’s eyes are in the sunshine. They’re practically sparkling. 

“Like whatcha see?” Dean gives him a cheeky wink and Castiel flushes. There’s nothing in this world compared to Dean’s body, wet and dripping, near enough to touch. But they have to be careful, so incredibly careful.

“Dean…” he says somewhat breathlessly, a warning in his voice. “We can’t—not here—not now—”

“Calm down, alpha,” Dean says lowly, staring at Castiel’s lips before traveling back up to his eyes. “I’m not gonna pounce on you in the pool, no matter how much I want to.”

“Good,” Castiel breathes, not sure he quite means that. 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t tease you within an inch of your life, though,” Dean says with a chuckle, licking his lips and looking down at Cas’ hands. “Whatcha got there, handsome?”

He’s staring at the packaged hamburgers and hot dogs, so the alpha automatically says, “Meat.” 

Dean laughs. “God, I hope so.”

“No, no, I meant…meat for you.” If his hands were free, Castiel would smack himself square in the face. 

“Even better,” Dean says with a wink. “You know how hungry I am for it.”

Castiel breathes through his nose, knowing how little room he has in his swim trunks and trying very hard not to let Dean’s flirting get a rise out of him. Literally. 

“That’s enough,” he says, trying to come off as joking but knowing his voice sounds tight. 

Since his meeting with Crowley, Castiel has been looking for the right opportunity to tell Dean about his contract. But with Kevin relying on him more each day, Dean’s desk has been increasingly empty during business hours. And after work, there’s always a dozen people buzzing around the manor, including Sam, who has plenty of free time on his hands and wants to spend it all with Dean. Mostly, the only alone time they’ve had together are those precious moments in bed, just holding each other. Castiel can’t bring himself to ruin those times, to disrupt what momentary peace they’re given. 

Still, he knows it’s wrong withholding this information from Dean, no matter his reasoning. He’s always projected a cool and collected image, practically a necessity when it comes to doing business with a bunch of knothead alphas. But in reality Castiel feels, and feels deeply, and he’s impossibly angry at himself for being duped by Roman. What kind of businessman is he, or alpha for Dean, if his oversight caused something so disastrous? 

“Hey,” Dean says, quietly intuitive as ever as he takes a hold of Castiel’s elbows and stares at him intently. “You okay?”

“I’m…” Castiel swallows, looking away. Even before learning the truth about the contract, Dean was present in his every thought. His touch soothed Castiel, his laugh made Castiel laugh, his kiss made Castiel feel lightheaded. Castiel knows that he’s falling for Dean—the intelligent, beautiful, and completely off-limits omega of his dreams. “I’m fine.”

Dean gives him a skeptical look. “Missouri said you overslept… Did you finally get some sleep?”

The worry in his voice makes Castiel feel cracked wide open. 

“A little,” he admits, offering his omega a weak smile. “But Dean…there’s something I need to tell you—”

The door to the patio opens behind them, the sounds of Kevin and Jo carrying down the largest of the coolers, each holding a handle. Castiel takes a stumbling step backwards, trying to look casual, as if they weren’t just having a private lover’s talk. Lost on what to do next, he heads in the direction of the grill. He drops the food off on a free surface, watching out of the corner of his eye as Dean grabs a towel and dries off. 

“Hey, Dean,” Jo calls out, “want a beer?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Dean mumbles, giving Cas a small frown and as he walks by. Frustrated by their lack of privacy—not to mention all the sneaking around and the constant paranoia—Castiel balls his hands into fists. He fights the urge to sweep Dean off his feet and whisk them far away from here, somewhere a contract can be ignored and Dick Roman’s reach can’t harm them. Castiel has the resources, the money, he could make it happen… But what about Dean’s family? What about Castiel’s staff, his friends who’ve made a home here? Is it worth leaving everyone behind just to have Dean all to himself?

Distantly, Castiel feels a sharp pang in his heart and selfishly thinks— _yes, of course it would be._ But Dean would never leave Sam alone with John, and Castiel wouldn’t allow that either. Still, they can’t exactly kidnap a minor and restart a life together in a foreign country. So here they are, doomed to two years of sneaking around and hiding. He trusts everyone in this house, and truly believes what Missouri told him upstairs earlier. The staff would protect Dean, would keep Dean and Cas’ relationship a secret. Of course they would. Not to mention, Cas is fairly certainly there’s a nondisclosure agreement in each of their contracts anyways…a formality he never imagined needing. But even if they could finally “come out” to the household, would Dean want to take such a risk? 

“Hey, Cas,” Charlie calls from the doorway, interrupting his thoughts, “you have a visitor!” 

Castiel wrinkles his forehead in confusion, and Dean shoots him a curious glance. The towel is tied around his waist now, and he’s tipping back an El Sol as he stands in front of the grill. Cas just shrugs, no idea who would be bothering him on a Saturday at lunchtime. 

As he reenters the house, apparently everyone else begins to empty it, heading outside—Sam and Missouri carrying out fully blown pool floats, Ellen sipping on a beer, Charlie digging into the chips and dip. The house is vacant by the time Castiel walks to the front door, and when he takes in the sight of who's standing there, he understands why. 

“What are you doing here?” he says between clenched teeth. 

“Now, is that any way to greet your favorite brother?” Lucifer says, arms thrown open wide. 

“I didn’t know Gabriel was with you,” Castiel replies coldly. “In that case, he can stay, and you can go.”

“Ouch!” Luc grabs at his heart dramatically, his tone turning whiney. “I know I seem all strong on the outside, Cassie, but inside I’m just a tender little alpha who wants his baby brother’s approval…”

“Bullshit,” Castiel says evenly, eyeing him warily. Eventually Lucifer's feigned frown turns to a smirk.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve got me. But I had you going there for a minute.”

Castiel sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Go away, Luc, and don’t come back without an invitation.”

He takes large, determined steps toward the kitchen, hoping his brother will take the hint. But he never hears the front door open and close, and sure enough, his brother speaks again from a few paces behind him.

“Now, how can I go when we have business to discuss?”

Castiel plants his elbows on the kitchen counter. The curtains around the large bay window are thrown up, the blinds raised. From here, he can see everyone on the patio together, talking and laughing and drinking. 

“Schedule a call with me like everyone else,” Castiel says, frustration seeping into his voice. 

“I’ve _tried_. Your pretty little omega piece is giving me the runaround,” Luc complains, coming beside Castiel and leaning closely. Castiel can’t help the grin that spreads on his face. He had no idea that Dean was putting Lucifer off like that, but he’s quite pleased to hear it. 

“Well, Dean is an excellent judge of character,” Castiel says simply. 

“Sure, just like I bet his slick tastes like sprinkles and whipped cream,” Lucifer snaps sarcastically. “Is he your little omega unicorn, Cassie? Bet he can get away with anything.” 

Castiel squirms uncomfortably, fighting back the waves of rage rolling through him. He can’t fly off the handle—he knows Lucifer would sell him out to Roman in a moment. 

“He’s just my assistant,” he says, stripping his voice of emotion. “I’ll reprimand him later for screening my calls, if only because it would’ve prevented this unwelcome house call.”

Lucifer looks up at him, examining Castiel’s expression as if searching for clues. Finally, he says, “Whatever. I’ve got an appointment today with some pretty little fuckholes of my own, so I’ll make this quick.”

 _Breathe, breathe, breathe,_ Castiel chants in his head.

“I need access to your guest list for next weekend.”

Castiel wrinkles his eyebrows. “Why? Most years, you don’t even come to the charity ball.”

Lucifer shrugs. “Call it a strategic career move. Got a few palms I need to grease, and they’ll all be in your house, boozed up and askin’ for it.”

Castiel stares out the window, his jaw tightening. He lets the image of Dean laughing behind the grill ease some of the tension from his shoulders. He doesn’t want to give Luc a single thing he wants, but there’s no need to incur his brother’s wrath over something as small as the guest list. Not when he has Dean’s safety to consider.

“Send me your list. Dean will mail a second wave of invitations first thing Monday.”

Luc claps him on the back. “Good man.” Castiel doesn’t comment, quietly fighting a sense of foreboding. He’s about to demand, once again, that Lucifer get the hell out of his house when his brother whistles loudly. 

“Who’s the fresh meat?” He points out the window, and Castiel squints. Jo, Kevin, Charlie, and Sam are currently in the pool, engaged in a high-stakes chicken fight. 

“Who?” Castiel demands. 

“Long brown hair. Tall and gangly. Looks like he can take a pounding.” Luc licks his lips, sneering at Sam. Castiel feels his stomach twist. 

“He’s underage and off limits,” Castiel says sharply. “The latter of which applies to everyone in my household, by the way. I’m quite sure no one here is interested in being your next conquest.” 

The game of chicken ends with Charlie and Kevin knocking Jo and Sam off balance, and they slip underwater, coming back up for air. Lucifer’s eyes are zeroed in on Sam’s face, his gaze turning predatory, and Castiel can’t help it—he yanks his brother’s arm and slams him against the counter. 

“I mean it, Lucifer,” he growls. “Don’t touch him, don’t talk to him, don’t even look at him. He’s a _child_ —he hasn’t even presented yet!”

Lucifer laughs obnoxiously in Castiel’s face. “Relax, Cassie, I was just trying to get a rise out of you. I get enough ass without needing to rob the cradle."

Castiel glares at him for a moment longer before releasing his clutch of Luc’s shirt, his gaze still deadly as he takes a step back. 

“Anywho, see you next weekend,” Luc says brightly, as if nothing’s wrong and Castiel’s bad mood has nothing to do with him. He grins maliciously and says, “It’s going to be a memorable party, I can tell.”

He bounds out of the room, humming a tune under his breath. Even after the front door shuts and Castiel has confirmed that his brother’s car is absent from the driveway, the feeling of uneasiness seems to permeate the whole house. Truthfully, he wants to flee to the West Wing and hide, to stew in his sadness as he daydreams all his problems away. In his ideal world, men like Luc and Roman and John Winchester don’t exist. There’s no outlandish contract between him and Dean, no childhood trauma preventing their mating. They’re happy and healthy and things are easier. His brother is alive and thriving. Dean is treated with respect by everyone he meets, and his body worshipped every night by Castiel.

But that’s not the world they live in, and Cas is frankly tired of facing reality. He passes by the kitchen window and Dean catches sight of him, flashing Cas a small smile. He's standing beside Sam, and both brothers are talking and looking at him curiously. Castiel waves feebly, heading for the patio door. 

For better or worse, he’s decided that today is the day Dean learns everything.

***

The burgers are flipped and looking perfect, if Dean does say so himself. Sam stands at the ready with cheese slices—since everyone wanted a cheeseburger—but Dean can’t help but keep darting glances over toward the kitchen window, wondering what’s taking Cas so long. He’s been even weirder today than normal, and that's saying something.

“Cas planning to come out and swim?” Sam asks, wondering exactly what’s on Dean’s mind. He looks up at Sam, his damp shagging hair falling in his face.

“Dunno, Sam. I’m not his keeper,” Dean grumbles as he begins to plate the food.

“He’s been a little…weird lately.” 

They both look up and catch Castiel at the window of the kitchen watching them. He gives them a small wave before looking back down.

“He’s a weird guy. Just leave it alone, alright?” Dean grabs the burgers and pushes past Sam to go put them on the food table. Jo and Charlie and Kevin all come running out of the water, grabbing lunch and snagging up clean towels. Dean decides to hold off on eating, feeling the sweat running down his back. 

He looks up to see Castiel step out onto the patio. Sunglasses are settled on his nose, but his eyes are obviously scanning for Dean. He can tell when the alpha freezes that he’s spotted Dean, a sad kind of smile on his face. Wanting to take that sullen look off Castiel’s face, Dean stretches his arms up above his head, feeling his swim trunks fall a little down his hips. He watches in satisfaction as Castiel’s Adam's apple bobs up and down.

Fuck if he doesn’t wanna run his mouth all over his throat, lick and suck and kiss his alpha till he can really taste him. He wonders if Castiel isn’t keeping him at arm's length out of fear of scaring Dean. He knows he balked when he thought Castiel was gonna actually knot him, and he’d be lying if he said he still wasn’t nervous about the whole thing, but fuck—couldn’t he be nervous and still wanna do it? Sure, the idea of doing that with an alpha was terrifying, but it also made his skin sing and his body slick with need at the very thought of having Castiel over him and _in_ him, filling him up. It sounds…amazing. He needs to let Castiel know he isn’t afraid—he has to make sure Cas knows he wants him, wants him the way an omega wants an alpha…and fuck whatever that says about him.

He manages to keep a straight face, acting like he doesn’t even see Cas as he sinks his thumbs into his waistband. It's a little tight since he bought these trunks years ago, but he slides his thumbs back and forth, adjusting himself. He can feel his cock harden just a little and smells a bit of his own slick. Fuck, even just teasing Cas like this gets him all hot and bothered, but this isn’t the place to start sporting a boner. Well, he knows one way to cool off. He turns to stride to the far end of the pool, trying to hide his smirk and likely failing, and takes a running leap before diving in. The water is cool and refreshing as it envelopes him.

He sinks down toward the bottom, flipping on his back to stare up at the shining surface above him. He takes a second to enjoy the quiet before planting his feet on the bottom and shoving back up above the water, sucking in a deep glorious breath. He shakes the water from his hair and wipes his eyes as he looks up to see Castiel, who’s gripping the back of a lounge chair, his other hand clenched at his side. _Jackpot._

Dean pulls himself out of the water on the edge of the pool, sauntering over and walking right past Castiel without so much a look. Snatching up his own towel and rubbing it all over, his back to the alpha, he revels a little—knowing the man is watching his every move. Suddenly, he gets a smack upside the head and sees Ellen raising a brow at him.

“Okay, hot stuff. Stop showing off and get some lunch,” she whispers to him with a laugh. His mouth gapes open a second before his whole body flushes pink. He quickly hurries to grab himself a burger and some pasta salad, then plants himself down on a lounge chair next to Sam. Maybe he was being a bit too obvious.

Castiel has seated himself at a patio table with Missouri and seems to be enjoying two juicy cheeseburgers. Dean can’t help but smile—he loves when the alpha enjoys his food. Castiel catches him looking and points at the burger, making a face of pure joy and sending him a thumbs-up. Dean smiles hard, blushing, and turns back to his own food.

“Dude, you stink.” Sam chuckles under his breath. “You’ve got happy omega practically dripping off you.”

Dean frowns, lifting his arm and sniffing. Sam isn’t wrong—those blockers stood no chance against the chlorine. He shuffles a little, feeling embarrassed that he’s so transparent.

“Hey, sorry for teasing, okay? It's nice to see you happy,” Sam says a bit softer, and Dean just nods. Still, now that he knows his scent is out there he feels a little ill at ease. It's crazy, he knows that he’s safe around these people, but somehow the only time he’s comfortable with his own scent is when he’s alone with Castiel. 

He grabs a towel and walks away from the pool, out toward the lawn. He finds a spot in the grass far away from everyone, and lays the towel out, crawling onto his stomach and stretching out. Sun warming his skin, he tries not to think about his scent. He thinks he’s starting to drift off, smiling at the sounds of laughter and splashing in the pool.

“May I join you?” a low, gentle voice asks. He turns and blinks up at Castiel standing next to him. The alpha is blocking the sun, towel clutched in his hands. He's wet, and Dean regrets that he missed seeing the alpha in the water.

“Free mansion.” Dean smiles, patting the grass at Castiel’s feet in invitation.

The alpha steps back, laying his towel next to Dean’s and planting himself on his stomach. He can’t help but notice how the alpha’s eyes rove over the dip in the small of Dean’s back.

“Hey, alpha,” Dean says, with a whisper under his breath.

Castiel’s breath hitches a moment. “Are you having fun?”

“Yeah, can’t remember the last time Sam and I got to go swimming that wasn’t down by the river.” Dean smiles at the happy memories.

“Did you do that often?”

“Not as much as we should have, but we found an old rope swing one year and would take turns jumping into the water till we wore ourselves out.”

Castiel hums in appreciation, his eyes looking over Dean’s skin again. “Did you put enough sunscreen on? You know it needs to be reapplied or you could burn.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Thanks, but I just put some on an hour ago. Unfortunately my favorite alpha wasn’t there to help.”

Castiel looks slightly abashed at that. “Well, I’ve been trying to find a way to talk to you about something.” Castiel flips onto his back before sitting up and pulling his knees to his chest. Dean follows him, doing the same and smelling the scent of worry on the air.

“What's wrong, Cas?” he asks, feeling his own scent start to shift and change.

“I found out some…upsetting information regarding your contract with me, and more importantly, my contract with Roman.” Castiel sighs, rubbing at his tired eyes. “I met with a lawyer…well, I met with Crowley.”

Dean’s hackles rise and he can’t keep the scowl off his face. “You met with that douchebag?” Sudden realization dawning, he adds, “Was it that meeting you took without telling me?”

Castiel looks at his knees, hand picking at the grass. “Yes, it was. He’s the top lawyer in the field of omega contracts.”

“Why does that not fucking surprise me?” Dean growls, pulling his own knees in tighter.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I know I should have talked to you sooner, but at first I didn’t want to get your hopes up, and then… Well, then I was too much of a coward to tell you what I learned.”

Dean closes his eyes and tries to settle himself so his anger doesn’t permeate his scent. “So, spit it out already. What did you find?”

Castiel seems to steel himself before continuing. “First of all, I want you to know, I will never let anyone lay a hand on you, Dean. No matter what it takes I will keep you safe. Honestly, I’m ashamed I missed something this important. If I’d read it, I never would have signed it—”

“Cas…just tell me, alright? You're kinda freaking me out.” Dean laughs, trying to lighten the mood, but it just comes off choked.

“It wasn’t written into your contract with me, which I read thoroughly, but it's a part of my contract with Roman…which I regrettably didn’t read closely enough. If Roman learns that our relationship has stepped outside the bounds of a white collar contract, then that will void our contract.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, if the contract is voided then he retains ownership of the assets, including your contract.” Castiel’s face looks pained, and Dean can see the muscles clenching in his jaw. “It means, if we have sex and Roman finds proof, he legally owns your contract.”

Dean fights back the swell of fear that engulfs him. The very idea of having to leave here to go to Romans makes him want to vomit. “But I mean, it would be a white-collar contract, right?”

Now Castiel’s face really does fall. “No, unfortunately his version of the asset would be a red-collar contract.” Dean feels like the ground drops out below him as Castiel hastily rambles on, “But Dean, I won’t ever let it come to that. You have to believe me I won’t _ever_ let him touch you,” the alpha growls low in his throat. The protective scent coming off Castiel does soothe him, if only a little.

“Fuck,” is all Dean can think to say, rubbing at his face. “So, for two years it’s just friendly waves and hand shakes?” It sounds like torture to him, to be unable to touch his alpha, to be with him. “I can’t do that, Cas.” He was just about ready to finally take that step with Cas…and now this.

The alpha lets out a long sigh. “I know, Dean. The thought of not being with you—it crushes me.” His voice is softer and broken now.

“I’m trying to find a way out of this for us. I’ve been through every legal precedent I can, trying to find a loophole. I even tried to see if I could just buy out the contract, void it completely and absolve the debt—”

“Cas, you can’t do that, it’s thousands of dollars and—”

“Dean, I would pay it in a heartbeat if I could… But apparently the contract states that you are unable to pay off your debt using money from your contract holder, so I cannot pay off your contract for you. I assume if you had a way to pay the debt off on your own you never would have signed the contract with me in the first place.” Dean shakes his head, knowing that Cas is the only person he knows with that kind of cash. Castiel’s voice is thick with melancholy at the admission. “I’m just so sorry, Dean. I’ve failed you so horribly.” The alpha buries his face in his knees, shoulders shaking.

Dean swallows hard, trying to stop his own shaking despite the heat. 

“This fucking sucks,” he huffs out, “but it isn’t your fault, Cas. It’s my debt and it’s my problem. You’ve already done so much more for me than you needed to.” He reaches a hand across the grass, needing to touch his alpha. Castiel hesitates a moment before his own hand crawls across the grass to grip Dean's. “I wanna be with you, Cas… Fuck Roman, and fuck the contract, okay?”

“Dean…we can’t just ignore this.” Castiel looks at him, his face furrowed in concern. Dean glances up then at the pool to see everyone laughing and swimming and talking. It feels like a family, and he thinks he would trust these people with his life. It's a good thing, too, because that's exactly what he’s going to do.

“No you're right, we can’t ignore it. But we can be smart about it. We’re only in trouble if Roman gets proof, and he’s never gonna get that unless someone in this house doesn't know what a big deal it is, and spills the beans. So we tell them—we come clean about us and the contract. No one here is gonna tell Roman on us, not if they know the stakes, and he has no way of knowing what we’re doing in this house. It's none of his goddamn business.” Dean growls a little, gripping Castiel’s hand tighter. He’s not gonna let fear control his life. “I know we wanted to keep this quiet between us before, with the whole boss thing…but let's face it, I answer to Kevin on a daily basis more than you now.” That gets a small huff of laughter from his alpha. “I know that I can always say no with you Cas, and it's knowing that—really knowing it—that makes me wanna say yes. I’m not ready to give this up, are you?”

“Dean…that's still not without risk. Are you sure you want to do this? Am I…am I really worth that to you?” Castiel drops his face again.

Dean raises their joined hands, planting a soft kiss on his knuckles. “You're worth it to me. We'll figure this out, but we gotta do this together, man. You gotta talk to me about this shit.”

“You never cease to surprise me, Dean Winchester.” Castiel watches him for a moment, something unreadable on his face. “I promise I will keep you safe, no matter what that contract says. You have my word.”

“I trust you, alpha,” Dean whispers back, truly meaning it.

Castiel stands then, helping Dean to his feet but not letting go of his hand. “Well then, no time like the present?”

Dean looks over toward his newfound family, and smiles. “Yeah, let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning (present in a nightmare only): Threats of rape/non-con, Implied potential rape/non-con, Implied non-con sex work, Derogatory language, Physical violence, Beating with a whip 
> 
> \--


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evening, loves! 
> 
> So this is a chapter we've been thinking about for ages. It's one of the first scenes we came up with and said, "That HAS to go into the story somewhere." Well, here we finally are…
> 
> At the ball. <3 
> 
> P.S. There is a content warning at the chapter's end, though it's more of a reminder of current tags. Either way, it's there if you need it!

Castiel is on his knees, grinning up at Dean above him. His omega leans against the bathroom wall, gasping audibly, pants around his ankles. His cock is pulled from the slit of his boxers, hard and nudging Castiel’s cheek, and Cas takes in the sight greedily.

“Mine,” he whispers, eyes glued on Dean’s face as he takes his first lick. 

“Yours.” Dean sighs, shutting his eyes tightly. Castiel teases him for a few moments, leaving gentle licks and kisses that have Dean holding his breath, waiting for his alpha to finally get down to business. 

“Y’know, the caterers are gonna be here in twenty,” Dean reminds him, voice shaking a little as Castiel rolls the omega’s balls gently between his fingers. It’s late Saturday afternoon and preparation for the ball is officially in full swing. Dean was only supposed to stop by to deliver his notes on Castiel’s speech, but Cas was fresh out of the shower, and one thing had led to another…

“I remember,” Castiel says simply, as he continues to tease Dean’s cock, never taking it fully into his mouth. His omega whines in the back of his throat needily and Castiel fights the urge to grin. 

“The more you tease me, the more likely it is that someone’s gonna walk in,” Dean points out. 

Castiel rests on the heels of his feet, considering that for a moment. He’s still partially wet from the shower, though the towel Dean had found him in is long forgotten, discarded on the bathroom floor. 

“After this week, I think they’ve all learned their lesson about knocking…don’t you?” Castiel chuckles while Dean blushes, rolling his eyes goodnaturedly. Since telling the entire staff last weekend about their relationship—which evidently shocked _no one_ —they’ve been trying to be more open with each passing day. To find a sense of normalcy with their newfound relationship. Castiel had been paranoid at first, not wanting to trade goodbye kisses or hold Dean’s hand under the table at dinner. Thankfully, Dean had gently reminded him that they have to take advantage of these moments while they can…because anytime a guest enters the manor, or they exit the estate, they’re back to playing pretend. 

Which is why various members of the staff have gotten an eyeful lately. 

“Yeah, pretty sure we scarred Charlie for life,” Dean jokes above him, referencing two days ago when Charlie walked in on them making out roughly in the kitchen. She had squealed, backed away with her eyes closed, and said— _As much as I support you two, that reminded me that I am very, very gay!_

Castiel laughs quietly, leaning against Dean’s skin and leaving kisses there—on his hips, his thighs, the top of his cock. Without warning, he finally takes Dean fully into his mouth, breathing through his nose as he goes deeper. Dean moans with reckless abandon above him, hands sliding into Castiel’s hair and yanking at the roots. It hurts enough to turn Cas on, and he feels his own erection fully hard now, bursting to be touched. He wraps a tight fist around himself, and even with a dry hand, it feels amazing. The heavy weight of Dean’s cock on his tongue, the salty twinge of precome down his throat, the sounds of pleasure Dean is making above him…

Seeing Dean like this, being able to pleasure his omega in this way, it brings Castiel more gratification than he ever thought possible. It makes every difficult day, every nightmare, every secret worth it. 

As Dean’s breathy moans begin to grow rapidly, the alpha catches a whiff of sweet slick permeating the air. The bouquet is similar to Dean’s—currently blocked—cinnamon sugar scent, and it drives Cas wild. Dean’s dick slides from his mouth with a pop, and he grabs Dean by the hips and flips him forcefully, his omega making a small whine of protest at the sudden lack of Cas’ mouth on his dick. The moment Castiel parts his cheeks, though, Dean shudders. 

“Oh, Jesus…wait wait,” Dean mumbles. He kicks his shoes off and strips off his pants and boxers, then joins Castiel on the bathroom floor, on hands and knees with his ass perky and round. “If you’re gonna do that, might as well make it good.”

Castiel chuckles, hands coming to each cheek and giving a firm squeeze. “Oh, it would’ve been good regardless. But thank you, omega...now I can devour you properly.”

Dean whimpers and Castiel dives right in, knowing he has to deliver. They’ve been fooling around a lot this week, but he hasn’t gotten to properly rim Dean yet—at least, not his satisfaction—and Castiel reckons they have about fifteen minutes before Dean has to get back to work. _Perfect._

He licks Dean’s hole with a flat, wet tongue, once, twice, three times, more eager and desperate with each pass. Dean’s slick tastes decadent, like a syrup made for the world’s richest dessert, and Castiel’s heart races the more he swallows. He begins to spear his tongue into the rim of tight muscle, and Dean whines and lets out a breathless _Cas,_ coming undone so easily for his alpha. A cheek in each hand, Castiel growls with arousal and shoves his tongue deeper inside, loving the feeling of Dean’s walls loosening around him. More slick pours out and Castiel laps at it ravenously, dripping from the corners of his mouth and down his chin. 

“F-fuck,” Dean cries, back arched. “Fuck, baby…right there…”

Castiel pulls his face away, feeling completely debauched, an absolute mess. He’ll need another shower after this, certainly. The sight of Dean’s pink, glistening hole makes his dick twitch, his erection so hard now it’s nearly painful. Castiel gives Dean’s hole a sloppy french kiss, and a new stream of slick trickles down. He swipes it with his fingers, then wraps his wet hand around his dick and begins to jack himself off. Thanks to Dean’s contribution, the glide of his hand feels incredible, and he’s already on the verge of coming with just a few simple strokes. 

With his free hand, he nudges a finger into Dean, sliding in easily due to his thorough rim job. He hooks his finger in search of…

“Fuck! Jesus fuck, alpha, oh my fucking… Christ, don’t stop,” Dean begs, voice strained and practically slurred as he shouts. Castiel loves when Dean gets like this, when he lets go so completely and trusts Castiel with his beautiful body.

“God, Dean…” he rasps shakily, pressing more firmly on the bundle of nerves comprising Dean’s prostate. He drops his own erection momentarily and cups Dean’s balls, then licks at Dean’s rim again, wondering if his omega can come untouched from this alone.

His boyfriend—such an odd concept that Castiel fights a smile—does not disappoint. 

Dean finally orgasms with Castiel’s name on his lips, a habit that turns Cas on to no end, the omega’s come shooting on the bathroom floor and wall. Castiel pulls his finger out but refuses to waste good slick, licking at Dean’s hole gently until the omega moves away with a soft cry, overstimulated. He falls to the floor, bringing his knees to his chest, eyes glassy. 

“Jesus, babe,” he sighs in a blissed out voice. He opens his legs again, putting his arms up. “C’m’here.” 

He gripes the back of Cas’ neck and pulls him into a possessive kiss, licking eagerly into his mouth and tasting his own slick. Castiel’s erection touches Dean’s t-shirt, the only shred of clothing he’s still wearing, and leaves a wet spot. Castiel is about to apologize when Dean breaks away, sliding the shirt off and discarding it quickly, before pulling him down for another heated kiss. Castiel begins to stroke himself desperately, and Dean places his hand on top of Cas’ as the speed picks up. They make out sloppily, tongues frantic and wet, and Castiel feels his orgasm begin to build. 

“Dean…can I…” He gives Dean room to breathe, his own airflow erratic. 

“Anything,” Dean says confidently, staring at Castiel’s cock as if it’s god’s gift to omegas. He licks his lips, watching Castiel twist his wrist and pant, moaning in a low voice before finally tumbling off the edge. 

He comes all over Dean’s face—lips, cheeks, chin—and Dean looks surprised but closes his eyes dutifully. He licks his lips, swallowing Castiel’s come, and Castiel very nearly blurts out a variety of compliments rolling through his head.

“Thanks,” Dean murmurs, somehow looking coy even with come on his face. 

Castiel’s eyebrows knit together. “Oh, did I…did I say something?”

Dean chuckles, placing a hand on Castiel’s hip. “Yep. You said that I, uh, looked gorgeous covered in your come.”

Castiel laughs under his breath, wondering how he can be so gone on this man that he momentarily loses his mind every time they’re intimate. He takes the pad of his thumb and follows an unusual impulse, rubbing his come into Dean’s skin, breath hitching as Dean’s eyes widen. Eventually his fingers join the party, massaging Dean’s cheeks and chest with come. 

“Laying your claim, alpha?” Dean whispers, and Castiel flushes a little, wondering if Dean has hit the nail on the head. 

“I…may be nervous about this evening,” he admits quickly. The ball has been looming over them all week, and while Dean is thriving under Missouri’s direction and seems to be enjoying the nonprofit aspects of the event, Castiel’s stomach has been in knots. He doesn’t like visitors on a normal day, but this is nearly a hundred people, many of them god awful alphas. Alphas who have shown an interest in Dean. 

Dean frowns a little. “You think it’s not gonna go well?”

“Oh, no, it’s not that. I have full confidence in your party-planning abilities,” he says with a small smile. He grabs the towel he had been wrapped in earlier and begins to clean Dean up, wiping his face first and then his cock. 

“So…this is about us?” Dean swallows, looking suddenly solemn, and Castiel wants to kiss that worried look right off his face. “I know there’s a lot riding on this, but we can trust everyone. Ellen, Missouri, Charlie… They’ve known you for years, babe, we can rely on them. I feel it in my bones.”

Castiel can’t resist—he does kiss him, a soft and reassuring press of lips. 

“I know. I’m more worried about my own behavior,” he admits quietly. “You’ve seen Lucifer’s guest list—Roman will be here, and the stakes are higher than ever. Not to mention a dozen other alphas, too...you know the kind of unwanted attention you’re going to attract tonight. Or, actually, let’s call it what it is…sexual harassment.” He spits the word out like venom. “I know I need to be level-headed—and usually I have no trouble with that—but if they lay one finger on you, Dean, I’m not sure I’d be able to stop myself from pulling them apart.”

Castiel feels a burning in the back of his throat, and Dean’s hands come to his temples, shushing him gently. 

“Shh, it’s okay. We’re gonna be okay. I love how much you care, sweetheart, but I can handle myself. We can’t have you going all possessive alpha in the middle of a party, okay?” He licks his lips and kisses Castiel sweetly, lingering for a while before pulling away, staring into Castiel’s eyes. “I need you to play this smart so I can stay with you. You want that, right?”

Castiel sucks in a rapid breath. “Of course I do.”

Dean gives him a smile then, a little forced and nervous, but it calms something inside of Castiel.

“I won’t do anything to jeopardize you or your safety,” Castiel says in a raspy voice. Dean kisses his knuckles, squeezes his hand, then begins to stand. 

A moment later, Dean is only halfway dressed when there’s a tentative knock on the door. Castiel calls out, “One minute!” Dean’s bottom-half is dressed, but his t-shirt is pretty soiled now, so Castiel tosses him the first t-shirt he can find. 

“ _Tampa Business Conference, 2009_?” Dean reads dubiously, shaking his head with a laugh as he slips the shirt on. “No way this is mine. Might as well put on a ‘we just fucked’ t-shirt.”

“I’m sure I could have some ordered for us,” Castiel says dryly. He swats Dean’s ass playfully, kisses him one last time, then ushers him out of the room. Castiel shuts the door with a sigh, hoping that moment of intimacy will help him get through this evening. Jo’s muffled voice comes out from the other side of the door, and she snorts. “Nice shirt, Winchester… It’s on backwards, by the way.” 

Castiel chuckles unexpectedly, muffling his laughter with his hand.

***

Applause rings through the grand hall, and Castiel feels the back of his neck begin to flush. The room is filled to the brim with people—perhaps a hundred or more—all staring back at him expectantly. The manor isn’t quite a banquet hall, but thanks to a little elbow grease from Missouri and Dean, it’s the next best thing.

He inhales, deciding that this suit is too much—sharp and form-fitting, attributes Dean had zeroed in on last week during the fitting, but now it feels too stiff. He tries to find Dean’s gaze in the crowd, but his omega is nowhere to be found…somewhere in the kitchen, very likely, helping the catering staff. So Castiel holds a thin champagne flute in his hand and leads the toast, faking his way through it and wondering for the millionth time what Jimmy would do if he were here. 

“To each of you and your great generosity,” he says evenly, then adds in a quieter voice, “And to my brother, Jimmy.”

He drinks. He’s not sure what time it is or how many refills he’s had, but he’s surprised to notice that he’s quite buzzed.

The music begins as soon as the toast ends, the orchestra launching into another melodious tune that’s heavy on the violin. As the unattached host—at least officially—Castiel feels obligated to dance with just about anyone who asks. It helps to pass the time. The unexpected bonus of staying on the dance floor is avoiding his brother the majority of the time, who seems to be hosting a large group of alphas in the parlor. Castiel is certain that his personal liquor cabinet will be empty in less than an hour, but at least Lucifer is out of his sight.

He’s been sharing a pleasant waltz with the Kansas City police chief, Donna Hanscum, when she spots her wife calling her over from the buffet table. Castiel watches her leave graciously, casting her a little lopsided smile. He spins around, debating what to do next or who to see, when he finds Dean standing behind him. 

He sucks in a quiet breath, caught in Dean’s gaze. The sleek suit and slender black tie look amazing on Dean, his hair tousled with gel, his face closely shaved. Cas hasn’t seen his omega for several hours now—separated by the crowd and Dean’s general sense of busyness—and having him so close now makes Castiel itch to reach out. To touch.

“What is it that people say?” Dean asks conversationally. “Can I, uh, have this dance?”

Castiel fights a smile. All too soon, though, a sense of paranoia overpowers any ease he might feel in Dean’s presence. “I’m…I’m not sure that’s…”

“C’mon, Cas,” Dean says with a grin, holding his open palm up. “You’ve danced with like, twenty people at this point. I’ll just be one of many.”

Castiel’s gaze softens, his voice a whisper. “You could never be one of many.”

The alpha relents, as he always does when Dean asks for anything, and takes his hand. He lifts his left arm, tucks his other around Dean’s back in the most platonic way possible, and pulls Dean a little closer.

“It’s okay if you don’t know how to waltz…” Castiel begins quietly, not wanting to embarrass him. But Dean takes his hand, falls into position, and begins to lead their dance with a surge of enthusiasm that makes Castiel’s head spin. 

“What?” Dean says with a cocky grin, gliding them around the room. “Surprised?”

“Immensely,” Castiel says incredulously. “Where did you…?”

Dean looks down at his feet, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. “Mighta been practicing with Ellen all week. Wanted to surprise you.”

It takes every ounce of self-control Castiel possesses not to close the distance between them and kiss his omega softly on the lips. Instead, he tries to infuse his feelings into his gaze, eyes full of warmth and affection. Then he puts a gentle hand on Dean’s chest, stopping him midstep. Dean looks confused until Castiel squeezes their hands together, pulls the omega an inch closer, and begins to lead instead.

“This feels different,” Dean admits, the music behind them fading into something even slower. Castiel can distinctly hear a cello, and it gives him goosebumps.

“Do you prefer leading?” he asks curiously, not quite minding the dance either way. Truthfully, he always leads, but he wouldn’t be threatened in the least to let Dean take the reins.

“Not with you,” Dean whispers. “Feels good…safe.”

He holds Dean’s palm harder, wishing he could pull him in by the hips, kiss him fully, whisper something sweet in his ear. 

Instead, he clears his throat and asks, “How’s your night been?”

“Busy,” Dean says with a sigh, his hand squeezing Castiel’s upper arm and shoulder. “Caught most of your toast, though. You didn’t tell me you’re a good public speaker.”

Castiel snorts. “That’s because I’m not.”

“Bullshit. You were awesome, Cas,” Dean says with a broad grin. “You also didn’t tell me you’re the guy who spends the entire night on the dance floor. Who woulda thought.”

“It’s purely self-preservation,” Castiel says, tone turning dark. “I find the…‘dance crowd’ a bit more palatable than the group in the parlor.”

Dean’s jaw tightens, nodding minutely. There’s something hidden in his gaze that Castiel doesn’t like, and he opens his mouth to dig deeper, but Dean begins to speak first. 

“It’s nice to see you like this,” he says. 

“Like what?” He spins Dean with a deft lift of his arm, and Dean goes willingly enough, the corners of his lips unturned when he spins back into Castiel’s hold. 

“Letting loose a little.” He winks flirtily, giving Castiel’s outfit a once over. “And rockin’ the hell out of that monkey suit.”

Castiel chuckles, shaking his head. Unable to resist any longer, he takes a chance and leans in. His mouth brushes Dean’s ear, and he says in deep rumble, “I don’t have to tell you how breathtaking you look tonight, or how difficult it is to have you in my arms and not kiss you. But just know, omega, I’m counting down the minutes until we’re alone again. I can’t wait to show you just how beautiful I find you…every naked inch of you.”

When he pulls away, Dean’s mouth is parted wide, his pupils alert and dilated. 

“Jesus, Cas,” he breathes. “Think it’ll look suspicious if I suddenly need to take a cold shower?”

They laugh together silently, so they don’t draw much attention, and then the song ends. Dean frowns, looks over Cas’ shoulder and mumbles, “Duty calls.”

Castiel mirrors the frown, but nods dutifully. 

“I’ll come check in at the end of the night, boss?” Dean raises his voice as he walks away.

“Of course, thank you,” Castiel says in an equally clear tone, hoping enough people will catch this completely professional exchange and be fooled by it. Castiel doesn’t have long to wonder, though, because he’s ushered off the dance floor by Donna. She introduces her wife, Jody Mills, a politician known for supporting omega rights. He shakes her hand enthusiastically and asks, “Mind if I introduce you to someone? The younger brother of my bo—my employee is a big fan of yours.”

Thankfully, neither woman seems to catch the slip of tongue, and Castiel vows to immediately trade his flute of champagne for a glass of water. He leads them to the garden, the evening lit up with faerie lights and the occasional firefly. Most of the staff has been either working the event or chatting together outside, and Catiel slips his suit jacket off as he introduces Sam to the third woman elected governor of Kansas. His eyes widen comically, and he launches into such a long and enthused summary of the proposed Omega Civil Rights Act that Jody eventually offers Sam a volunteer spot on her reelection campaign. Sam practically faints at the offer, accepting instantly, and Castiel’s heart swells with joy. He can’t wait for Dean to hear the good news—he’s always celebrated Sam’s successes with unparalleled excitement. 

All told, the night has been such a wonderful success that Castiel begins to feel uneasy. How can he have someone like Jody Mills under the same roof as someone like Lucifer, and things not implode? He’s not sure if it’s his own negative thinking that does it, but a moment later, Missouri is whispering in his ear that the situation in the parlor requires his attention. Castiel’s jaw tightens but he nods, excusing himself as gracefully as possible, and follows her back inside the manor.

“You want me to go with you?” she murmurs, but he shakes his head. There are few people he would subject to a room full of drunk alphas, and it’s not like they would listen to her anyways. It’s nearing eleven o’clock now and the party is beginning to thin out, which is maybe why the belligerent shouts coming from the parlor are standing out even more. He rounds the corner, cracks the door open, and steels himself.

“Gentleman,” he begins in a level tone. On one brown leather couch, there’s Luc, Raphael, and Crowley. Dick Roman is leaned against the wall, arms crossed with a perpetual smirk on his face. On the other couch are a few alphas he’s never seen before, with a man in the center who has a short haircut and trimmed facial hair. They’re all holding lowball glasses filled with liquor, and Castiel’s bar cart is predictably askew with empty bottles.

“Gentleman?” a woman’s voice repeats, and Lilth comes from the corner of the room. She’s in a floor-length, slinky white gown, her lips pursed in a smirk. “Do you hear that, Abby? Our host is being horribly sexist.”

“Apologies,” Castiel grumbles, though he gets the distinct feeling that he’s been teased. Abaddon leans against a nearby arm chair, her black dress so tight it seems painted on. “I didn’t see you two.”

“Castiel only has eyes for pretty green-eyed boys,” Lucifer jabs, and Castiel breathes through his nose, concentrating on keeping his cool. This is what Dean prepared him for—he can’t blow their cover now. 

“I’m afraid we haven’t been acquainted,” he says formally, changing the subject and shaking hands with one of the mystery alphas. “I’m Castiel Novak.”

“Christopher Alastair,” the man says with a tight grip, his voice unusually high. “It isn’t customary that a host waits until the evening’s end to finally greet me, though with corrupt politicians like Jody Mills keeping you company, I’m not surprised.”

Castiel blinks, caught completely off-guard. “Excuse me?”

Abaddon snorts gleefully, downing the rest of her glass. “Dumb bitch. If she loves omegas so much, why doesn’t she quit callin’ herself a beta and grow some goddamn ovaries?”

Castiel doesn’t think it’s worth pointing out that Jody _is_ a woman who has ovaries, regardless of her secondary gender. But it’s not his job to lead an anatomy class right now.

“Jody is a guest in my house, just like you,” he says carefully, letting the threat hang open-ended. 

“You’ll have to excuse my brother, Mister Alastair,” Lucifer slurs, coming beside Castiel and patting him roughly on the back. “He might be the richest guy here, but he’s weird as hell.”

“I can see that,” Alastair says, eyes narrowed. “Tell me, Castiel, what exactly makes you ashamed of being an alpha?”

“I’m not ashamed of being an alpha,” Castiel says coldly, beginning to regret ever letting Lucifer anywhere near the guest list. “You and I simply have different interpretations of what’s acceptable behavior.”

That earns a handful of hearty chuckles from the group. 

“So, does that mean it’s ‘unacceptable’ to fuck an omega?” Raphael asks. “To split ‘em open on your knot? Oh, I forgot. You wouldn’t know, would you, Castiel?”

“You’ve _never_ fucked an omega?” Alastair asks, scoffing openly. 

Castiel opens his mouth, but Lilith speaks for him. “No, he’s never been able to get it up,” she says with a smirk. “Not even for the little omega who follows him around like a lost puppy.”

“Dean Winchester. Now _there’s_ a real piece of ass,” Dick Roman adds, joining the conversation in such a sudden way that Castiel’s stomach drops. “He has a mouth made to suck cock.”

“You fuck him?” Alastair asks Roman curiously, as if asking about tomorrow’s weather. 

“Never got the chance. Castiel negotiated him away… Didn’t you?” Roman shoots him a vicious grin. “He’s a virgin, too. Prettiest little slut I’ve ever seen. Knew if any omega could get Castiel to pop a knot, it’d be him.”

“What about it, baby bro?” Lucifer grips his shoulder again and Castiel fights the urge to brush him off. “You fuck him, or not?”

“Not,” Castiel says, hoping his voice doesn’t sound too sharp. He needs to sound bored, despondent—not as angry or wrathful as he truly feels. 

“Fascinating,” Roman says quietly, eyes shining in Castiel’s direction. “Face like that… I figured you’d crack, and he’d be back under my thumb in no time.”

“Oh, are you referencing that absurd contract?” Castiel schools his expression. “You’ll be waiting a long time, I’m afraid. I have no interest in the man.” 

He looks around the room, a handful of faces seemingly skeptical. Crowley is pointedly ignoring his gaze, which he’s thankful for. He takes a deep breath and plows on, piling on the lies—anything to keep Dean safe. 

“Even if I decided to be with an omega, I would never be with someone like him. His father sold him to settle a debt, regarding him as nothing more than cattle. If his own family doesn’t respect him, why should I? Some omegas are too below us to even bother.” He cuts his eyes at Alastair, heart pounding in his chest. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

For a moment no one speaks, breathes, and then Alastair grins. He looks at someone over Castiel’s shoulder, standing in the open doorway. “Oh, is this the lowly little bitch?” 

Castiel can’t bear to look behind him, but in his peripheral vision he sees him—Dean, standing behind him. He tries not to flinch. 

“That’s him,” Roman calls, straightening his tie and taking a step closer. “You hear that, Winchester? Your alpha just called you a worthless piece of cattle. Maybe you can get on all fours and make him proud?”

“He is quite pretty,” Alastair comments with some approval. “Castiel, you could just fuck the pretty little bitch—it’s not like you have to mate him, for god’s sake. Nobody needs to be burdened with a useless whore like this for life.” 

Castiel feels a wave of nausea pass through his body. He resists the urge to shout, to lash out, to kick them all out of his house. Of course this is upsetting, this is horrifying, no one should have to put up with this. But Dean knows it’s all on act, at least on Castiel’s part—right? 

“And don’t worry, Castiel.” Roman walks to the bar cart, pouring himself the last of a four-hundred-dollar bottle of scotch. “When you do break and he’s back under my care, I’ll let you come fuck his pretty holes whenever you want.” 

Castiel breathes through his nose, hands balled into fists. He’s willing the anger down—a surge of alpha protectiveness that he can barely keep at bay.

“He’s such a little bitch, I bet he has milk like a real heffer,” Abaddon purrs, rubbing the front of her chest and winking at Dean. “Trade you, gorgeous.” 

“Or we could all just take turns with you,” Raphael offers with a shrug. “Right here, right now.”

“Now _there’s_ a party favor,” Lucifer adds.

Alastair licks his lips, eyeing Dean with open and obvious lust. “How about it, boy? Wanna show Novak what he’s missing?”

Castiel chances it then—a quick glance in Dean’s direction. There’s a complicated range of emotions on Dean’s face, and he’s trying just as hard as Castiel to mask the impact of the alphas’ words. But Castiel knows him well, too well, and he can tell by the slight tremor of his lip that Dean is actually…afraid. Some part of him thinks he might actually get gang raped right now, as if Castiel wouldn’t protect him if things truly turned ugly. 

The whole situation makes Castiel want to lash out at every alpha in the room.

“I just came here to get payment for the caterers,” Dean says in a small voice, keeping his head down. “They’re waiting in the kitchen, sir.” 

“Oh, isn’t he sweet?” Lilth says mockingly. “Looks like you’ve trained the spirit right out of him, Castiel.”

“He’s practically boring now,” Abaddon says with a yawn. “Still fuckable, though.”

Ignoring her and the room as a whole, Castiel tells Dean in a measured voice, “I left some cash in an envelope on my desk.”

Dean nods, a quick gesture before his eyes return to the ground. Castiel can’t tell if he’s trying to make himself as small as possible to avoid the alphas’ attention, or if he really feels that meek and worthless, but Dean shrinks in on himself as he walks away. 

It’s a heartbreaking sight… But isn’t this what they wanted? To knock Dick Roman off their trail? 

“Now there’s an omega who’s been beaten down,” Alastair says approvingly. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet, Castiel.”

***

_Deep fucking breaths. Nut up, Winchester._

Dean tries to keep himself calm as he weaves through the dance floor of increasingly intoxicated people. He feels suffocated, surrounded by all these people, and yet somehow so incredibly alone. He breaks free from the crowd and moves into a jog down the hall, not stopping till he reaches Castiel’s office. He stops to catch his breath and takes in a lungful of fresh, unscented air.

“Get a grip, damn it,” he growls, running his hands through his hair. He feels the tremor in his fingertips and tries to shake it out. How on earth could those words hurt so much? It feels like he got his heart ripped out, a physical ache deep in his chest. Some part of him knows that Castiel was just saying what he had to to throw the alphas off their trail. Still, the words had rung so incredibly true—they felt like a punch in the gut. How could he ever look the alpha in the eye again?

_His father sold him to settle a debt, regarding him as nothing more than cattle._

Where was the lie? That’s exactly what fucking happened. His own father sold him like a piece of furniture. Even worse, Dean had basically sold himself. If he didn’t think he was worth more than his own contract, why should anyone else? Dean had spent so many hours trying to tell himself he was good enough for Cas, trying to convince himself…but deep down he thinks he’s known all along that Cas was too good for him. This just proves that.

Alistair was right—Dean is only good enough to fuck, to mess around with. Castiel himself doesn’t want to ever be his mate. Dean had accepted that, thinking Cas just wasn’t the mating kind of guy. But maybe it wasn’t taking a mate that he was against, but taking _Dean_ as a mate. How had he been so stupid not to see it? He was never gonna be good enough for someone like Castiel. He feels a strange wave of nausea wash over him, making him feel sick to his stomach.

It had already been a very difficult night, watching Castiel dance with all those other people. How his feet glided across the hardwood, hands cradling the small of someone else's back. All those elegant people, with their fat checkbooks and prestigious educations. Dean felt lower than dirt around all of them, and he was used to that, resigned to it…but Castiel never made him feel that way. When Cas had danced with him he felt lighter than air. All the stray hands that had grabbed at him all night, and the leering comments thrown his way, had faded into the background as they moved together. It was perfect, but a fantasy—something he had so harshly been reminded of in that study.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” He smacks his hand against his head, about ready to hide under the desk and never come out. He just needs to get through this night and then he can snatch a bottle of fancy-ass whiskey off a bar cart and lock himself in his room till he’s good and drunk. He grabs the envelope from the desk and tucks it in his jacket, taking a few more slow breaths before he heads to the kitchen to find the caterer.

He manages to stay out of everyone’s way as he delivers the money, making sure the wait staff have everything they need. He takes some solace in the fact that they are raising a lot of money tonight, all of it going to a good cause. He peers around the dance floor and catches Castiel on the far side. The alpha’s brows are furrowed, eyes scanning the dancers, and Dean quickly ducks behind a taller man. He’s not ready to face Castiel yet.

“Well, hello there.” A deep, unfamiliar voice draws his attention, and he looks up at the man he decided to hide behind. “Avoiding someone?”

“Uh no, nope, just uh…” Dean looks around and sees a waitress walking by with a tray of champagne. “Grabbing a drink.” He snatches one up, raising the glass swiftly and chugging the terrible gold liquid. Who likes this stuff anyway? He can’t keep the grimace off his face and the man chuckles.

“Not a fan, huh? I’m more a whiskey man myself. Name’s Nick Monroe.” 

Dean only hesitates a moment before shaking the man’s hand. He gets a faint whiff of alpha off him, but it's hard to tell in a full room like this, and hardly anyone wore blockers to the ball. He seems friendly enough though, and is currently blocking Dean from view.

“Yeah, whiskey is more my speed. Name’s Dean.” He glances around the guy just in time to see Castiel twirling a small red-headed woman around the dance floor. It sets his teeth on edge, and he just barely contains the possessive growl from escaping.

“Would you like to dance?” Nick asks, seeing Dean watching the dance floor. Dean has “no” on the tip of his tongue, but he looks up at the man one more time. Average looking, but a pretty soft smile. If Castiel can dance with other people to keep up pretenses, then shouldn’t Dean do the same?

“Yeah, I’d like that.” He gives the guy a smile and his face lights up like a damn Christmas tree. He feels a little bad for leading this guy on, but he needs the distraction. Nick offers his hand with a flourish and bow, and Dean can’t help but chuckle.

Dean gives him his hand as Nick leads him out toward the middle of the dance floor. He manages not to flinch when Nick’s hand rests on the small of his back, and allows the guy to start leading him around. “Relax.” Nick grins at him. “Promise I don’t bite.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but does relax a bit. “That's good, ‘cause I haven’t had all my shots.”

That makes Nick laugh, throwing his head back, and Dean catches a warm happy scent of alpha. It's not as pleasant as Castiel’s woodsy scent, but it's not nauseating like most alphas tend to be. He thinks he could be friends with a guy like Nick—he even reminds Dean a bit of Benny. Still, as they shift and sway, moving amongst the shimmering gowns and sleek Armani suits, he feels a pull within him. He wants Cas. He still wants the arms that are holding him to be his alpha, and even if he isn’t worthy of the man, it doesn’t stop him from wanting.

As if conjured from his thoughts, he catches sight of the alpha through the crowd. His blue eyes are blazing with a heated glare as he watches Nick and Dean turn across the floor. Dean feels a shiver run right down his spine, hair standing up on his neck, and he can’t draw his eyes away. His alpha’s hands are clenched, white knuckled fists at his side, and Dean feels as if he might melt under the stare. It's almost as if he can feel those fingers grasping his hair, those gritted teeth claiming his throat, and his blood thrums through his veins—crying out for Cas, wanting him, needing him.

“Is that who you were avoiding?” Nick's husky voice whispers in his ear, and Dean pulls back at the heat of his breath against his skin.

“No, uh he’s my…” Dean licks his lips, searching for words. _He’s my everything._

With a quick shake of his head, he says, “He's just my boss.” Dean shrugs, glancing back up to see that Castiel is gone. “I actually should get back to work.” He pulls away from Nick, feeling the alpha’s strong hands reluctantly release him.

“So soon? Can I find you again?” Nick hovers near him, eyes wide and hopeful. Dean gives the guy an apologetic smile. He seems like he could be one of the good ones.

“Thanks for the dance.” With that, he turns on his heel, weaving back through the dancers. The crowd is thinning and Dean spots Castiel stiffly standing by the front door, saying good night to the departing guests.

Dean feels sweat at the nape of his neck and shrugs out of his coat, laying it across the first chair he sees. He tugs off his tie along with it, and begins to search for the closest bar cart—sticking with plan A of getting whiskey and drinking till he forgets the awful things he heard tonight. Before he can reach the cart, a hand grabs suddenly at his belt and pulls him into the hallway. He stumbles back against the wall, hitting it with a thud. He lets out an _oomphf_ as he blinks up into familiar, shark-like eyes.

“Get off me, Dick,” Dean growls, as Roman crowds in on his space.

“Just came to say goodnight, little omega.” Roman grins, and Dean is shocked as always that his teeth aren’t actually filed to points.

“Goodnight. Now get the hell out.” Dean’s skin crawls as the alpha boxes him in against the wall.

“You should learn to be more polite to your betters, boy. Believe me, when you come to work for me that mouth will be put to better use. Only a matter of time before Novak will bend you over and give you the good fucking you so desperately need. I’m banking on it.” Roman winks at him and slaps a hand to Dean’s neck, pressing his sweaty palm against his skin.

Dean snarls, batting the hand away as Roman jumps back laughing, looking far too pleased with himself. 

“That ought to make a certain alpha jealous. Have fun with the green-eyed monster coming for you. Or maybe in your case, blue-eyed.” With that, Roman strides around the corner and out of sight. Dean smells the scent of Roman on his skin and it makes him ill. He bolts toward the back, snatching up the whiskey and gasping in the warm summer air.

He wanders out to the pool, rubbing at his neck to try and dispel the scent lingering there. It's so still and quiet outside, the muffled sounds of the ending party in the background. He feels the urge to take off running into the garden and not stopping till his legs give up on him. Staring out across the water, he feels frozen there. Unable to leave and unable to turn back inside. He toes off his shoes and socks and sits himself down by the edge of the pool, cracking open the bottle and taking a short swig.

Dean had strung up the lantern lights all around him, and now he watches the way they gleam across the ripples in the water. It's as pretty as he imagined it would be, steam rising off the heated pool. He dips a hand into the water and swirls it back and forth, smelling the chlorine. He holds the bottle to his chest and fights off waves of _dirty bad wrong_ crashing over him. 

Maybe he should just get it over with and go to Roman, serve his time, learn his place. He’s sure Cas would let Sam stay, would keep him safe. He’s not good enough—he’ll never be good enough for Castiel, and it feels like it's killing him. Hurting his body and his pride has to be better than hurting his heart.

“Dean?” 

He looks up and realizes he has angry tears in his eyes. He wipes them fast on his sleeve before he spots Cas standing a few feet away. The alpha looks incredible, hair swept back and sleeves rolled-up, his suspenders off his shoulders and dangling by his hips. Dean glances up and sees most of the lights in the house are off, and wonders how long he’s been out here. Long enough for his legs to go a bit numb.

“Party over?” he asks, looking at the whiskey he’s been clutching but barely drinking. He’s proud his voice barely shakes.

“Everyone is gone, and most of the staff has headed to bed... I couldn’t find you.” Castiel’s voice cracks, fear etched on his face.

“Here I am,” Dean retorts, kicking out his legs and rubbing at his tingling calves.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” The alpha’s voice goes soft as he slowly gets closer, approaching Dean like a skittish animal.

“Sweetheart?” Dean repeats. “Is that what you call cattle? Seems a bit much for someone as low as I am.” Dean’s words burn his tongue like venom. He manages to push up off the ground facing Castiel. There's a myriad of emotions playing across his face, scent swirling with anger, hurt, lust.

“Dean, you know I didn’t mean those things. Of course you know that,” Castiel pleads, stepping closer again.

“Of course you meant them, Cas, ‘cause they’re all true. My own flesh and blood sold me like meat. That falling down wreck of a house and greasy garage meant more to my dad than I did,” Dean all but yells. He feels so angry, tears still burning in his eyes, threatening to dampen his cheeks if he doesn’t get control. “Why would I matter to you? How am I any more than an asset line on a financial statement, huh?”

“How dare you,” Castiel growls at him, eyes growing dark. Dean lifts his face in shock at the tone as his alpha storms toward him. “Don’t you ever say such a thing, you foolish, stubborn man. How dare you think that's all your worth? How could you possibly think that you aren’t everything to me? That I wouldn’t give up everything for you?” The air swirls with the thick, possessive scent of his alpha and Dean’s inner omega stirs in his chest.

“Your own words, Cas.” Dean swallows hard, struggling to keep himself from lunging into his alpha’s arms. “How could you say those things?”

“I said them to protect you, Dean. I was in a room full of wolves who would have eaten you alive. I would have said and done anything to keep you safe! I thought you knew that.” Castiel waves his hands around before sinking them into his own hair in frustration. Dean can sense the hurt behind the anger now.

“Yeah, well…you're too damn good of an actor, I guess,” Dean grumbles, crossing his arms to keep from reaching for him. “Seemed like you had no trouble finding worthy partners to spin across the dance floor. Maybe you should go and find one of them who will cause you less trouble than a penniless, omega whore.”

Castiel's face sours as he closes the last few steps between them. His alpha sucks in a deep breath, face pinching as he likely smells more than one alpha on Dean’s skin. 

“I already have the only person I want standing right in front of me.” Castiel's voice is firm, brooking no argument. “I only danced with those people to keep up appearances. What about you, and that blonde alpha who had his filthy paws all over you?”

Dean’s heart rabbits in his chest at the possessive growl Castiel lets loose. Heaven help him, his cock begins to stiffen and he feels arousal warming in his chest. “Keeping up appearances,” he repeats sarcastically. “His name was Nick, and his hands were hardly all over me.”

Castiel lets out another growl, shuffling forward till he is leaning over Dean’s neck. His head tips, and oh god, he can feel the alpha’s hot breath on his skin. It's all he’s longed for all night. 

“Roman,” Castiel snarls now, hand fisted in Dean’s shirt, eyes blazing with the same look that makes Dean want to fall to his knees and fucking present. “Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?”

“N-no, it's alright, Cas. I can take care of myself. He just grabbed my neck,” Dean manages to get out, as he practically chokes on the scent of Castiel around him, consuming him.

Castiel hums, nosing at his neck where Roman's hand was, and suddenly a warm wet mouth has latched onto him, arms pulling him into his chest. He lets out an audible gasp. 

“Fuck,” he cries, as a warm wet tongue laves over his skin and teeth gently press into his flesh. His whole body trembles, knees practically giving out as the pure pleasure sings through his body.

Castiel pulls back and grasps Dean’s face within both his large hands, meeting Dean’s eyes. There's a fire behind them, and while it should be terrifying, all he feels is safe for the first time all night.

“You… are… mine.” Castiel enunciates each word, taking his breath away.

“Alpha.” Dean barely gets the word out before Castiel is on him, lips pressing to his own as they become tangled up in each other, hands grasping and mouths melting together. Dean’s foot slips behind him, and he gasps seeing the edge of the pool, clutching at Castiel’s shirt as they both go tumbling into the water with a splash. They sink into the pool as cool water envelopes them.

Dean reaches out for Cas and feels the alpha’s strong arms pull him toward the surface, legs kicking hard. They breach the water above as they both suck in lungfuls of air, hands clinging to each other and shaking their damp hair out of their eyes. Dean can’t hold back the laugh as he blinks the water from his eyes. His heart feels light as air for the first time all night. He looks into Castiel’s eyes, and they sparkle with the brightest blue, the lights reflecting there. He can’t believe how beautiful Cas is. 

“Dean, are you alright?”

He doesn’t answer—instead, his mouth seeks out Castiel’s and he wraps his arms around the alpha, tangling them up in each other. He moans as he clutches to the man, wanting to drown in him and let the water wash away all the pain from the night. 

“You really still want me?” He wishes his voice didn’t sound so unsure as he pulls back and looks into those dark blue eyes. They’re treading water, legs tangling together under them.

“I will never stop wanting you, my beautiful, intelligent, kind, funny omega. I can never get enough of you, Dean, and I will spend as long as it takes to convince you of that.” Castiel nuzzles at his throat, continuing to scent mark him. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I never want to hurt you,” Castiel rumbles, pressing him against the wall of the pool. Dean wraps his legs around Castiel’s hips, pulling him in close.

“Make me yours, Cas, only yours,” Dean whispers, nuzzling at him and breathing in the familiar calming scent. Castiel captures his lips again, the water swirling around them. It tastes amazing, like finally coming home. He needs this—he needs Cas to be in him right fucking now.

“Fuck, your lips are so sinful.” Castiel kisses and nips at him, gaining a gasp from Dean.

“Sin from thy lips, O trespass sweetly urged, give me my sin again,” Dean whispers, before claiming the alpha’s lips in a rough kiss.

After a second Castiel pulls back with a smile lighting up his face. “Shakespeare?”

Dean feels the blush creep up on his cheeks. 

“I read,” he shrugs, not meeting Cas’ eyes. It’s corny as fucking hell—did he really just quote Shakespeare out loud? He really is gone on this man.

“You kiss by the book,” Castiel whispers to him, and Dean rolls his eyes before the alpha is on him again. They continue to lazily kiss till Dean feels the press of Castiel’s hard cock against his groin.

“Alpha,” he moans, realizing he knows exactly what he needs. “Alpha, I want you. Please knot me tonight. I want you in me. I’m ready, please.”

“Dean…are you sure?” Worry is etched across Cas’ brow and he moves to lean up and plant a kiss to his forehead, nose, and lips.

“More sure of this than anything, Cas. Please, I need to feel you. I need to know I’m yours.”

A soft smile turns to one of lust as Castiel growls at him, making his whole body tremble.

“Always mine, always,” Castiel purrs. “Come with me, my beautiful, wet boy.”

“How do we always end up getting so wet?” Dean laughs.

“Oh, believe me omega…you’ll be plenty wet when I’m through with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: One of the tags for this story is Omega Discrimination and Sexual Harassment—which happens in spades during a particularly intense scene in this chapter. 
> 
> \--
> 
> CBFirestarter here! Small side note that I’m jumping up and down excited cause we are finally getting these guys laid!!! The slow burn has been killing me, though I’m glad for tension sake my coauthor had us wait. Either way you should know I’m just as excited as you to see what she writes (my co-author and bestie is the bomb) and am so excited to write my part too. Love you all! 🥰


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey my friends!
> 
> OH MY GOSH! I could not possibly be more excited about this chapter. We were so excited, in fact, that we are posting early and sharing the smutty joy (yes, I said _smutty_ joy).
> 
> Love  
> CB & TCBaby
> 
> P.S. This chapter is dedicated to all our readers impacted by COVID-19—whether you're sick, your loved ones are sick, your employment situation or living situation is challenging, or you're just stuck at home full of anxiety. We see you, we're here for you, and we hope these lovesick boys will help give you a moment of reprieve. <3

Shuffling back into the manor, holding hands and grinning excitedly, Dean and Castiel tiptoe through the kitchen. They had stripped outside as much as they could, leaving behind their soggy shoes and socks, letting their slacks and button-ups air-dry over a lounge chair. Castiel had been half-tempted to ask Dean to keep that wet, white shirt on—it was skin tight, obscenely sexy, his boyfriend's nipples pointed and perky…visible through the soaking fabric. But then Dean had shivered and his protective instincts kicked in, helping Dean shred his drenched layers and rubbing his bare arms for warmth.

Now they’re both standing in the empty house, only wearing boxers and heading toward the staircase of the west wing. Dean’s cheeks are flushed red, his lips already swollen from their intense make out in the pool, and Castiel can’t help him himself. He leans Dean against the nearest wall and kisses him, the omega gasping with sudden surprise before melting into the kiss. In spite of the shivering, the coldness of the air-conditioning on their damp skin, Castiel pushes his half-hard cock against Dean’s groin. He’s pleased to find his omega is just as hard, and Dean whines a little in the back of his throat, closing his eyes and breaking off the kiss. 

“I…have to…grab…something,” Dean whispers in between kisses. “Go dry off—I’ll meet you upstairs.” 

Castiel quirks a questioning eyebrow, but Dean just gives him a quick peck in response and takes hurried steps toward his shared suite with Sam. Castiel wonders briefly what Dean could be retrieving—surely not lube, since Dean’s body makes the most arousing slick anytime they’re intimate. Condoms are also unnecessary, since Dean is on a very effective birth control pill. Plus, the chances of pregnancy are only highest during an omega’s heat. So that means… Is there something else Dean needs to finally be penetrated and knotted—some sort of toy or aid? 

Castiel frowns and runs up the steps, leaving a trail of dripping pool water on the hardwood floor. He realizes with some disappointment that he knows very little about the actual mechanics of having sex with an omega, having ignored the impulse for over a decade. Since he’s been dating Dean he’s thought about it often, of course, but he always figured it was self-explanatory. But what if there’s something he’s overlooked, something he should be prepared for so their first time is as pleasurable as possible?

Officially stuck in his own head, Castiel reaches his bedroom and flings his soaking boxers into the laundry hamper. He wraps his robe around him, tying it with a quick jerk, and then grabs his phone. It’s been up here for safe keeping since the start of the ball, and Castiel barely glances at his notifications—mostly just texts from Gabriel wondering if their asshole brother ruined the event, which Castiel can only chuckle darkly at—before he does a quick google search. He bites his lip, wondering what sounds less idiotic, but decides no one will see his search history and types: _how do alphas and omegas have sex?_

Feeling properly foolish—but eagerly hoping he isn’t about to find out his imaginings of the whole situation are completely wrong—he’s halfway through a ten-step wiki guide when he hears the floorboards creak. He glances up and sees Dean in a pair of loose sweatpants and a t-shirt, holding a…

Stereo, of all things.

Castiel quirks an eyebrow.

“Where did you find that relic? A garage sale?” he quips, momentarily distracted by his worries as he eyes the boombox in Dean’s hand.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean mutters, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “Where can I find a plug?”

Amused and curious, Castiel gives him a small smile before pointing to the other side of the bed—the side that Castiel has affectionately been calling _Dean’s side._ At least in his head. Dean plugs it in, puts in a cassette tape and turns the volume down low. The sounds of classic rock begin to fill the room. 

“Did you…?” Castiel pauses, listening to Led Zeppelin and feeling suddenly smug. “Dean, did you make a mixtape—for us to have sex to?” 

Dean scoffs, his face reddening, and Castiel grins and rolls over, grabbing Dean by the waistband and drawing him to the bed. Dean goes willingly enough, leaning into Castiel’s touch, but his face is still turned in embarrassment. The alpha drops his phone and cups his omega’s chin with his hand, thumb gently rubbing his cheek. He scents him, too, pleased that most of the chlorine has faded and left Dean’s own sweet, cinnamon scent. 

“Thank you,” Cas says, knowing his reaction to this is important— _music_ is important to Dean, an expression of trust and camaraderie, and it’s not an offering he takes lightly. “I love it.” 

“Yeah?” Dean’s voice is small, guarded. He finally looks up at Castiel, his gaze breathtaking. “I know it’s cheesy as hell, but I dunno… There are a bunch of songs that remind me of you, so I always thought that, if this happened we should…y’know…”

Castiel isn’t sure what’s affecting him more: the thought of Dean assembling a playlist with the intention of them having sex to it, or Dean listening to his favorite songs and them suddenly taking on new meaning now that he has a boyfriend. _An alpha._ Castiel leans down and kisses him deeply, locking their lips together and infusing every shred of gratitude he has into it. He still can’t quite believe it—his night has gone from good, to terrible, to frustrating, to amazing, all in a matter of hours. He can only imagine what new, emotional heights the next hour will bring.

“When did you make this?” Castiel can’t help but ask, and Dean turns his head again, a deep blush coloring his cheek. They’re laying horizontal now, Castiel’s arm cradling Dean’s head. With his other arm he snakes a hand underneath Dean’s shirt, scratching enticingly at his bare skin. 

“A while ago,” Dean says vaguely. 

Castiel doesn’t know why, but knowing this feels significant. His hands wander up and up, finally landing on Dean’s nipple. The omega’s breath hitches as he rubs the nub between his fingers. “Tell me,” Castiel says simply, “and I’ll use my mouth instead.”

Dean groans, sinking his head further in the pillow. “Two…or maybe, uh, three months ago,” he admits softly, and Castiel can barely hide his surprise. Dean has wanted him, thought about him, for that long?

He moves the shirt up and scoots down, leaving a circle of kisses on Dean’s chest before latching onto his nipple. He sucks, making sure the sound is loud and wet, and Dean lets out a breathy moan above him. 

“It was after we visited the…the beehive,” Dean admits, licking his lips as he watches Castiel go to work. 

“Which time?” Castiel asks innocently, though he remembers the incident Dean is referring to. It featured in many of his lonely nights, waking up hard and wanting, body yearning for Dean.

“Fuck, Cas, the time you fed me honey off the comb, remember? I sucked honey off your fingers… Shit, I about came in my pants right then.” 

Castiel hums appreciatively. He remembers that afternoon very well—it was one of the first moments he realized his feelings weren’t one-sided, that Dean wanted him too. He gives attention to Dean’s other nipple, shuffling around on the bed for better access, when Dean muffles a protest beneath him. 

“Hang on—there’s something behind me—” Dean reaches behind the curve of his back and pulls Castiel’s cell phone from the bed sheets. He looks at the screen momentarily, eyes squinting, before flashing a look of incredulity in Castiel’s direction.

“Uh, babe…” He turns the phone around to show Castiel a particularly graphic cartoon image on wiki, detailing how to properly penetrate an omega. “I don’t judge a guy’s porn habits, but you know there’s hotter stuff out there than this, right?”

Castiel feels all the blood leave his body and snatches the phone away, locking the offensive screen and tossing his phone back on the dresser. 

He has no idea how to respond to Dean, apart from telling the truth, so he admits hoarsely, “That article was less recreational and more…research-based.”

Dean grins at him just as the mixtape switches to “Whole Lotta Love.” He reaches for the tie of Castiel’s robe and the alpha follows, albeit a little resistantly, wondering when the last time was that he felt this embarrassed. Alphas are supposed to be in control, self-assured and knowledgeable, but there’s something about how precious Dean is to him that makes Castiel doubt his instincts. 

Dean surprises him by switching their positions and pinning Castiel to the bed. Dean has a hand on the front tie of Castiel’s robe, looking into Cas’ eyes for permission to loosen it. The alpha just lies back and nods, observing the reverence on Dean’s face as his chest becomes bare. 

“Why were you doing research, sweetheart? Neither of us are exactly virgins,” Dean says in a whisper, eyes roaming Castiel’s body hungrily. When Castiel just gapes and doesn’t respond, Dean’s hand wanders down further, until he’s suddenly gripping the alpha’s half-hard cock. He strokes eagerly and Castiel moans at the abruptness, heart racing as his cock fills out again. “Remember that little game you just teased me with? Well, same rules apply. Tell me and you’ll get my mouth.”

Castiel would chuckle at how easily Dean has turned the tables on him, _if_ he wasn’t secretly begging to have those gorgeous lips wrapped around his cock. He’s stiffening very quickly under Dean’s skilled hand, the omega’s lips latched on his neck, and he rumbles, “You said you had to get something, and I wasn’t sure… I wondered if it was something to–to help you…”

Dean’s rumbling chuckle reverberates in his ear, his lips sucking a spot behind Castiel’s ear that will surely bruise tomorrow. He pulls back finally, his pupils dilated with lust, and leaves a trail of kisses from Castiel’s collarbones to his hips. He removes the last corner of robe concealing Castiel’s groin, and then the alpha is on display for him. 

Dean wraps a tight fist around Cas’ erection, staring into his eyes mischievously. “You’re saying you didn’t think this big, throbbing alpha cock could fit into my tight little hole?”

“Oh, god…” Castiel groans, feeling his cock twitch in Dean’s palm. He never knew he was so affected by dirty talk, but he figures anything Dean does in bed is going to affect him, one way or another. His omega is officially wearing way too many clothes, but Castiel can’t seem to protest when Dean is staring at his cock like he’s physically restraining himself from bending over and inhaling it. 

“I just want to make this good for you,” Castiel admits in a quiet voice, trying to push through the haze of lust to make Dean understand his intentions. “We’ve never done this before, with each other or anyone else—as alpha and omega, at least. So I need you to communicate with me. If anything makes you uncomfortable, or doesn’t feel good, then we can—”

Whatever Castiel was planning to say next, he’s not sure he’ll ever remember, because Dean takes Cas’ cock into his mouth. Castiel shuts his eyes at the sudden wet, tight heat, but then forces himself to open his eyes again, to look. Dean’s mouth is stretched around Cas’ girth, lips pink and shiny as he bobs his head, right hand rooted at the base of Castiel’s cock as he takes the intrusion in deeper. Perhaps it’s the knowledge that his cock will be buried in Dean’s other hole _very_ soon, but it’s the best blowjob he’s ever received, and it’s only been going for twenty seconds. 

“Dean,” he moans, fisting the sheets as lust overtakes him. Dean swallows and the movement nudges at Castiel’s cockhead, the alpha winding a hand down to Dean’s hair and tightening. Castiel knows from experience that his omega likes a little pain with his pleasure, but it’s a fine line to walk, so he always waits for a signal of approval from Dean. The omega hums in acknowledgment, looking up at Castiel with pleasure in eyes, so Castiel does it again. “So beautiful like this, baby…”

When the omega pulls away a few minutes later, his lips are swollen and there’s a tent in his sweatpants. He rubs the heel of his hand down, panting a little, and Castiel sits up and tackles his boyfriend to the other side of the bed. Dean looks equally surprised and pleased, their sudden tumbling knocking all the decorative pillows off Castiel’s bed. He makes short work of stripping Dean’s shirt, throwing it haphazardly and not caring that it lands on a lamp. He pulls at the waistband of Dean’s sweatpants and tugs, throwing them aside to appreciate the miles of mouthwatering omega beneath him. He just stares at Dean for a moment, in absolute disbelief that he’s been given such a gift, until Dean’s hands find his hips and snap him out of his reverie. 

“See something you like, alpha?”

Castiel responds with a low growl, his mouth finding Dean’s and crushing their lips together. Everything is heady now, desperate and overzealous, and when their cocks brush they moan into each other’s opened mouths. Castiel wonders if he should take them both in-hand but he doesn’t want to wait any longer, so he breaks off the kiss long enough to maneuver Dean fully on his back. Then he pushes his legs up until his knees are on his chest, his perfectly curved ass on display. Dean goes pliantly enough, which Castiel loves—the innate sense of trust between them makes him want to give his omega every form of pleasure. He can smell the scent of Dean’s slick, their shared arousal making him feel dizzy, and he bends down and licks with a flat tongue over Dean's hole, eventually leaving a wet trail from perineum to rim. 

“Fuck,” Dean hisses, legs beginning to shake the more eagerly Castiel licks. “Jesus, baby, twice in one day…”

So much has happened between now and then, it seems like a distant memory that Castiel rimmed Dean on his bathroom floor before the ball. 

“Mmm, apologies, Dean, but you’re just too delicious.” He spears his tongue in a little, entering him with the tip experimentally, and Dean whimpers above him. 

“Believe me, ‘m not complaining,” Dean says, slurring a little. After another minute or two of sweet slick coating his tongue, Castiel pulls away regretfully, knowing there are more efficient ways to prep his boyfriend. His pointer finger pushes in easily enough, Dean’s legs finally falling as Castiel leans in closer between his knees. Dean’s cock is fully hard now, red and glistening at the tip, and Castiel whispers, “I can’t wait to see you come on my cock, omega.”

“Fuck, baby.” Dean whines in the back of his throat. “Please fuck me. Want you so bad.”

Shaking a little at the effort to keep himself at bay, Castiel adds a second finger. Dean takes it without as much as a wince, and Cas has to remind himself that Dean’s body is made for this. Prep like this isn’t strictly necessarily for an omega, but it’s Dean’s first time to ever bottom, so he’s determined to keep things slow. But when he adds a third finger that accidentally brushes Dean’s prostate, his boyfriend dips his back off the mattress and cries out from the intense pleasure. 

“Cas, please, baby, please! Put it in, I’m ready. I need you!”

“I need you too, Dean, but I need you to be open enough first,” Castiel reminds him, but his voice is wavering at the sounds of Dean’s pleas. The urge to jam his cock in and start pounding away has never been stronger. 

“Cas, I was open enough ten minutes ago!” Dean argues desperately. His pupils are completely blown, his skin is covered in a soft sheen of sweat, and he’s fucking himself on Castiel’s fingers faster than the alpha can comprehend. 

“But Dean—”

“Jesus Christ, Cas,” Dean snaps, “if you love me even a little you’ll give me your cock right the _fuck_ now.” 

Dean freezes then, his desperation morphing into something like distress. Castiel’s heart feels like it’s beating so fast, he could give a hummingbird a run for its money. “I mean, not that you, uh, you know…feel that way about me.” He stares up at the ceiling, grimacing painfully. “Shit, I’m sorry. I have no idea why I said that.”

“I do,” Castiel says in a low voice. He pulls his fingers out, strokes his cock with slick, then lines himself up. It feels fitting to say this now, when he’s breaking his number one rule for Dean. _Dean_ , with green eyes and freckles and the softest lips he’s ever kissed. Dean, who’s fierce and funny and loyal to a fault. Dean, who can turn him on or make him angry as easily as flipping a light switch. Dean, who comforts him and cares for him and takes care of his alpha in every way imaginable.

“It’s because you’re right.” He keeps his eyes locked on Dean as his cockhead begins to breach, the omega’s hole accepting him eagerly despite being the tightest channel Castiel’s ever entered. His mind’s mantra is _tight tight tight tight tight._ He reminds himself to breathe. 

“I do feel that way about you. I’m falling in love with you, Dean Winchester, fast and hard and so completely.”

He bottoms out and Dean gasps—whether from the impact of finally being penetrated or from Castiel’s words, he isn’t sure. The feeling of finally being inside of Dean is overwhelming, warm and stimulating and damp with slick. He doesn’t begin to move immediately though, allowing Dean time to adjust as he tries to get his own impulses under control. He sees tears forming at the corner of Dean’s eyes and begins to fear the worst.

“Are you okay?” he asks immediately. “Should I—do you need me to pull out?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Dean growls, surprising Cas by reaching around and grasping the alpha’s ass. He pulls him closer, deeper, and they both moan at the feeling. “This is everything I’ve wanted, Cas. You are everything I want.”

Cas is glad they’re doing this face to face, because he can capture Dean’s lips easily, sinking into a closed-mouth kiss. When he finally pulls away for air, his cock moves out a little, and he nestles it back in. Dean moans in approval, says, “Fuck me, sweetheart, come on,” and Castiel’s last remaining semblance of control snaps. 

He does a few more experimental thrusts before setting a rapid pace, plunging into his omega’s tight hole, in and out again, the sensation like nothing he’s felt before. His skin feels hot and clammy at the same time, his inner alpha is rumbling away in his chest, and he wonders for a moment if he’s gone into a rut without noticing. But no, he’s not due for another rut for a while, this is just _Dean_ —Dean’s perfect body welcoming him in, giving him such pleasure it sweeps through his body like he imagines possession would feel like. He snaps his hips and Dean throws his head back and comes untouched, screaming Castiel’s name as white streaks his belly. Castiel swipes a finger through and sucks the come into his mouth, then feeds Dean some, barely breaking stride. He keeps pounding into Dean’s hole, watching his cock enter and exit, thick and erect and covered in slick. 

He’s not sure where his stamina comes from, considering he’s felt on the edge since the moment they kissed in the pool, but he keeps going. Dean curses and cries and flushes desire, and Castiel is so lost he has no idea what words are falling out of his mouth. He wraps a hand around his omega’s cock and begins to stroke it, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, and pretty soon Dean is hard again and writhing on the bed. The bed itself is chaotically askew, pillows tossed on the floor, blankets falling off and the headboard rattling against the wall. 

“Do you remember helping me pick out this bed?” Castiel says, thinking aloud as Dean nods beneath him. “After that, I could never get the image of fucking you on it out of my head.”

“Fuck, Cas, me either. Thought about it all the time.” 

Castiel moves Dean’s hips up slightly, adjusting his angle. He knows the moment he brushes Dean’s prostate, because his boyfriend yells, “Holy fucking shit right there, Cas, right the fuck there!” He doubles down on his efforts, deciding that he needs to see Dean come again _right now_ , nailing his prostate and stroking his erection. Dean’s second orgasm pulls a string of incoherent, throaty cries from the omega, along with, “F-fuck, Cas, you’re gonna be the fucking death of me.”

And still Castiel fucks him. Fucks him until he’s growling and his eyes are flashing red. Fucks him until Dean can no longer seem to form sentences, reduced to moans and shouts and tears. They’re both absolutely wrecked, animalistic and unhinged, though every kiss is filled with love and appreciation. Castiel has never had sex like this, has never wanted someone so badly in his life, and he feels a tightness form in his balls as his release finally builds. 

“Dean!” he cries in a desperate whisper, burying himself in deeper, his knot forming and catching on the rim. “Omega, my sweet, sweet omega…” 

“Aaaahohhgodd,” Dean pants. “So big—baby, I, f-fuck—you feel so hu-huge, splitting me open, alpha—”

His knot swells then, locking them together as Castiel finally comes, feeling as though he’s been pushed off a cliff just to find himself flying. He empties his come into Dean’s hole for so long that it takes him a moment to realize his mouth is sucking Dean’s scent gland. His teeth scrape the skin, nibbling but not quite biting, and Dean comes for a third time—this time sobbing, as if the orgasm was ripped from him. Castiel falls on top of him, his full weight burying Dean against the mattress, and he wants to bite down and claim his mate. His mouth can’t seem to leave the scent gland alone as he sucks and nips and teases, and when he feels like he won’t be able to stop himself from breaking the skin and fully mating Dean, he reaches around for the next best thing. 

He growls into the pillow, his alpha strength piercing the barrier and ripping it open with his teeth. It takes him a long time to calm down enough to check on Dean, much to his own chagrin, but they’re still locked together thanks to his swollen knot. When their eyes meet, Dean is looking at Castiel with a glazed look and a sated smile. 

“Welcome back.” Dean runs a hand through Castiel’s sweaty hair affectionately. “So, how was it—your first time with an omega?”

Castiel lets out a little chuckle and kisses Dean’s mouth. 

“Indescribable. Truly, the most memorable night of my life. Though I’d argue it was not just because of your secondary gender, my beautiful omega—” He kisses Dean again before adding, “but more because of you.”

Dean blushes a lovely shade of pink, biting his lip and staring at Castiel with something like wonder on his face. 

“And you?” Castiel brings their hands together, entwining their fingers. 

Dean chuckles. “I came three times, sweetheart, so I’d say it was a success.” He grins broadly before a softer look crosses his face. “But like you said, it was even better ‘cause it was you.” He brings his free hand to Castiel’s face, thumb tracing his cheekbones. 

“What are you thinking about?” Castiel says quietly, their gaze deep and meaningful in a way he can’t quite pinpoint. Dean is quiet for a long moment, and doesn’t answer right away—moving his hips so he can rest his head on Cas’ chest. He hisses at the knot brushing his sensitive rim, but they find a comfortable position eventually, and settle in for the wait. Castiel strokes Dean’s hair, feeling messy and sweaty and absolutely incredible. As soon as his knot goes down, he’ll clean them both up and pull his boyfriend close again, breathing in his gorgeous scent and letting it soothe him to sleep. And perhaps he’ll clean up his bedroom, which looks more or less like a tornado has hit. Then again, he reasons, maybe that can wait until the morning. Having Dean in his arms tonight is more important. 

“I’m thinking that I’m in love with you, alpha,” Dean finally whispers. And maybe it’s because this has brought them closer, has led them to admit things they’ve been holding back until now, but Castiel finds he can’t speak without crying. So he kisses his boyfriend’s forehead and pulls him tighter, knowing without a doubt that he’s found the omega destined to be _his_.

*** 

Dean is fairly certain he’s on fire. He stretches and kicks the blankets away from himself, hearing a low growl at his back. His heart races a moment before he smells the familiar scent of his alpha. Castiel’s arm is wrapped around his waist in a tight grip, his hot breath on Dean’s neck. He shifts a little, feeling a dull but delicious ache in his body. He can’t stop the smile creeping up his face when he thinks about the night before.

It had been a bit of a whirlwind—a rollercoaster, even. The ball had been a great success, but much harder to endure than Dean had imagined. Between dodging unwanted advances and having to listen to those cruel alphas, he’d been pretty worn out by the end of it. He always feels like he’s ready to withstand any insult, any leer or comment, yet somehow—when he’s standing there—his thick skin seems to falter. He hates the power their words have over him, and he can only hope that Cas and his found family will always be there to help drown out that hateful noise. He won’t admit it to Cas, but those words still worry at the back of his mind…like splinter you just can’t get out. Castiel huffs behind him then, making him smile.

Cas, his beautiful, strong alpha. To finally have him the way Dean’s been dreaming about. To finally let someone in, _literally in_. To be that vulnerable. He never thought it could be so amazing, so freeing. It was the best sex of his life, and he’s decided that orgasming on a knot is now his new favorite pastime. He settles back down into the heat of his alpha’s arms. He never thought he’d see the day he would fall for an alpha, but he’s fairly certain he would have fallen for Cas regardless of his secondary gender. There is something about the man that speaks to Dean, makes him feel truly at home.

The room is practically soaked in their happy scent, and Dean realizes that—for the first time in weeks—that dull ache in his gut and the tension in his muscles is completely gone. He feels sated. Well, almost sated…his morning wood is making itself known and he can feel the slick between his cheeks. He wiggles back a little farther, a little bit more, and… _there_ , he can feel the press of Castiel’s own morning wood firm against his cheeks.

There’s a low rumble from alpha behind him, and he feels the hand tighten on his waist, pulling him close. Lips latch onto his scent gland and lightly suck at the tender skin, making him mewl in delight. He knows he’s sore but he hardly cares about that now—all he cares about is that he’s empty, and he wants that remedied right the fuck now.

“Alpha,” he whispers, rocking his hips back till he feels Castiel’s erection slide between his cheeks. “Mmmm, fuck,” he huffs out in low voice, beginning to arch his back and tip his head to the pillow, giving Cas more access. “Please Cas, need you, so empty please,” he begs, because somehow he’s still so fucking horny.

“Dean,” Castiel’s gravely voice is right in his ear, “easy, my omega, shh. I’ve got you.” Dean wiggles and stretches across the sheets. He feels a tickle on his cheek before shaking a feather out of his hair. He glances up to see one of the pillows got torn, and he remembers Castiel tearing it with his teeth. It sends a shiver of unadulterated lust right through him. He wants those teeth sinking into his skin more than he thinks he’s ever wanted anything. He wants this alpha to be his, to claim him.

“Cas, please.” He feels the alpha's cock head brush over his hole, a light and teasing touch. He feels Cas chuckle against the nape of his neck as a hand slowly crawls up his stomach, easing toward his chest till a thumb circles his nipple. He pants and whimpers as the hard body behind him gently works him over with light touches that only scratch the surface of his need. He thinks he may go mad with lust, if there is such a thing. Castiel hand cups his chest, twists his nipple harder as he presses wet, sinful kisses to his neck and continues to rut between his cheeks.

Dean lets out his own growl, unable to take the slow, stimulating torture any longer. He pulls out of Castiel’s grip, tossing back the covers. Castiel flops onto his back in surprise with a plume of feathers flying around him. He gives the alpha a feral grin, deciding he isn’t the only one who can be a tease. He crawls over till he’s straddling the alpha’s legs, running his hands up those muscular thighs that his slacks do such an injustice of hiding normally.

“Dean, what are you—?”

Dean cuts Cas’ question off by dipping down and sucking the alpha’s balls into his mouth. There's a small gasp above him, and he smirks as he begins to gently roll them on his tongue. He breathes in the heady scent of his alpha and sex and it only makes his cock harder. He can feel Castiel’s legs flex and release under his palms and chuckles, letting the vibration out against his skin. He pops off the alpha’s balls and bats his eyelashes up at Cas, whose eyes are lust-blown, his hair completely frazzled and covered in feathers as he stares back at him. He keeps eye contact with the sleep-rumpled alpha as he slowly licks the head of his cock, watching it bob before him.

“Holy fuck.” Castiel licks his lips, and he winks at his alpha before he dips his head to suck down Cas’s gorgeous cock. As it fills his mouth, stretching his lips, he marvels at the fact that this monster fit inside of him last night. _Thank you, biology_. He can’t quite get Cas all the way to the root, so he lifts a hand off Castiel's leg to grip the base of his cock and begins to lightly squeeze.

Castiel arches off the bed a bit as Dean begins to suck and bob his head in earnest. He can taste something different on his cock and realizes that it's his own sweet slick. Not for nothing, but it's not half bad. He moans around the cock, trying to keep his eyes on Castiel’s face, mouth hanging open around a soundless “O” as he struggles not to buck up into his mouth.

Dean’s own cock is being sorely neglected, and he reaches his free hand between his thighs, gathering a bit of slick. He wraps a hand around his cock and lets out a long, deep moan at the amazing sensation. Fuck, it feels so damn good. He sucks harder now, working his alpha’s cock like he was born to it.

Strong hands grip his shoulders, pulling him up and off the cock as he sucks in a deep breath. Castiel’s eyes blaze blue, yanking him forward and pulling him up his body. Dean lets out an undignified squawk as Castiel crashes their mouths together. The alpha’s hands skim down his body till they firmly grip his ass, lifting him up till he’s hovering over Castiel.

“Do you want my cock, omega?” Castiel pants, hands holding Dean up just above him, legs trembling.

“Yes, alpha. Want it, fill me up,” he answers, his own hands now gripping hard onto Castiel’s shoulders for support.

Castiel doesn’t say another word as he pulls Dean down, impaling him on his cock. Dean gasps, head tossed back, body arching as he takes Cas in, inch by inch. He’s a bit tight and sore, but his body is so wet and opening up to him, welcoming Cas in. He feels his muscles contract around him, whimpering at the tight glorious stretch that feels like it's filling up his entire body. All the dark and empty spots within him feel full bright, and he lets out a deep low sigh as he is finally seated on the alpha’s lap. 

Hands cup his face, and he realizes he had closed his eyes. Blinking down at Cas, he sees a mix of emotions across the man's face. “Are you alright, Dean?” Cas whispers, thumbs brushing his cheeks. There’s so much love and adoration on that face—Dean hardly knows what to do with it.

Nodding his head, he gives Cas a smile, “I’m good, alpha.” He really is too, he is right where he needs to be and nothing else matters in this moment. To prove his point, he lifts up a little before lowering himself back down, shivering as he feels the cock nudge at his prostate.

Castiel’s smile is bright and warm like the sun as he moves his hands back to Dean’s hips and begins thrusting up into him. It’s not long before Dean is bouncing on his cock, nails digging into the alpha’s shoulders as he rides him hard, body trembling as the glorious angle hits him in just the right spot.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuuuuuck,” Dean chants, feeling his orgasm building in his balls. One of Castiel’s hands wraps around his cock, giving it a squeeze, and it has him coming undone, cock spurting out across the alpha’s chest. He groans long and low, body clenching around Cas, and he feels the alpha’s knot starting to form. Dean is so loose after the rush of endorphins from his orgasm, just one quick thrust and the knot pops into place. A low growling whine comes from Castiel as he feels the alpha filling him up, cock pulsing deep within him.

Arms shaking to hold himself up, he feels his muscles clamp and release, milking the knot within him. It feels so amazing, he just wants to stay in the moment forever. 

“Come here, my beautiful, perfect omega,” Castiel coos softly, he shifts them up the bed so he’s sitting up and pulls Dean into his chest. Dean rests his head on the alpha’s shoulder, leaving soft, contented kisses on his skin. Warm loving hands stroke his back and card through his hair. It’s quiet again in the room as they wait out Castiel’s knot, but Dean is in no hurry. He burrows down till he’s plastered against the alpha, arms wrapped around him, never wanting to let him go.

“Love you, Cas,” he whispers out, head still hiding in the crook of the man's neck. 

“Love you too, Dean, more than you know.” Castiel kisses his cheek, soft and chaste. Dean truly means it—he loves this man with everything he has. He wants to keep Castiel all to himself, but he feels a pang in his chest at the voice in the back of his head… _but he doesn’t want to be your mate_. 

Dean knows it's not really about him—that Cas doesn’t want to mate anyone, that he’s scared of what happened to his brother could happen to him. It doesn’t take the sting of that away, or the doubt that maybe Cas will want to mate someday when he finds the right person. And maybe, it's just that _he_ isn’t that person for Cas. The idea terrifies him…losing Cas, being on his own, rejected. He shivers, gripping on tighter to the warm body beneath him.

“Hey there…what's wrong?” Castiel asks, worry coloring his voice.

“Mmm, fine,” Dean replies, clinging harder and keeping his face hidden.

“Dean, baby…talk to me. I can smell your distress.” Castiel’s hand brushes back the hair from his face, trying to look at him.

He doesn’t want to ruin this moment, letting his insecurity and shortcomings sully what’s happening between them. He needs to just appreciate what he has right here and right now—which is a loving, attractive, kind, and hot as fuck alpha in his arms. He steadies himself, willing his scent to clear and looks up at Castiel. 

“I’m good, Cas, just sad we have to get up soon.” It's not a lie, but it's also not completely the truth.

Castiel seems to accept it though, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Yes, but I will make it worth your while. We can shower, and then…how about we go get breakfast somewhere, just us?”

Dean can’t help the genuine smile at that. “Really? Can I pick where we go?”

Castiel chuckles. “Of course you can. Anywhere your heart desires that’s within driving distance.”

Dean doesn’t have to think long. “Kate’s Kitchen, it’s got the best french toast around. Sam loves the waffle called The King, since it has peanut butter and bananas on it and he’s a little weirdo like that.”

“Sounds perfect. Did you want to invite him?” Castiel offers. Dean thinks on it for a second—he knows how much Sam loves that waffle.

He shakes his head. “Nah, we can just bring him back one. I want you all to myself.”

Castiel smiles at him, kissing him again, then again, and suddenly they’re exchanging slow and lazy kisses till Castiel’s knot goes down and he slips out of him. Dean sighs at the loss, but lets out a whoop of laughter as Castiel lifts him up off the bed and carries him to the bathroom.

“My legs work!” he laughs.

“Yes, but I’m not ready to let you go yet.” Castiel shrugs, unashamed.

They can’t keep their hands off each other in the shower, but somehow manage to get clean before the water gets cold. Castiel hands Dean a pair of his jeans and a blue-button down. He wants to object—he can just go downstairs and get his own clothes—but once he realizes that Cas had worn these recently, he hurries to put them on, letting himself be surrounded by his alpha’s scent. He doesn’t think the move was accidental, judging by the way Castiel smiles and tugs at his collar.

He isn’t sure how they do it, but somehow they sneak out of the house undetected. They make a mad dash for the Impala, laughing as they jump like two fugitives on the run. Dean winces a little when his sore ass hits the seat of the car, and Castiel looks at him with a knowing smirk. 

“Yeah yeah, yuck it up, chuckles.” Dean rolls his eyes, but fails to keep the smile off his face.

The morning flies by as Dean and Cas talk about old stories—like Dean nearly losing a finger in shop class, and Castiel’s runner-up trophy for his debate team. Castiel tells him how he led a class protest against the student uniforms, while Dean tells him about the first time he got high under the bleachers with his friend named Ash. Needless to say, they had very different experiences. At breakfast, they stuff themselves on everything, and Dean realizes just how hungry he was—having not eaten much the night before.

On the ride back to the house, Dean suggests they have a movie night and just take the evening to relax. Castiel fervently agrees, but tells Dean he needs to answer a few emails before they start. Dean rolls his eyes at Cas being such a workaholic, but he agrees without a fuss. He gives Cas a swift kiss when they’re back in the house, and yips when Cas smacks his tender ass.

“You’ll pay for that, Novak.” Dean wags a finger at him.

“I certainly hope so.” Castiel laughs as he heads for his office.

Dean clutches the take-out box with the waffles in it and goes in search of Sam. He ends up finding him in his bedroom, headphones on and book on his lap.

“Hey, nerd. I got you some grub, ‘cause I am just that awesome a brother.” He grins wide, handing the food to him with an exaggerated bow.

Sam pulls off his headphones and looks like he’s about to make a bitch face when he opens the container and sees what's inside. “Oh, hell yes. Thank you, Dean!” he exclaims before he starts to grab his plasticware.

“Hey, don’t be a heathen. Take it to the table.” Dean scowls, smacking his brother lightly upside the head.

Sam is too excited to even return the scowl, gathering up the food and hurrying out to the small table in the living space. Dean settles on the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

“So, how’d the party go?” Sam asks between bites.

“Went okay. We managed to make nearly twice as much as we were hoping to.” Dean smiles, thinking of how far that money could go.

“That's awesome. Seemed like a real pinky-up kinda thing.” Sam shrugs his shoulders.

“And how would you know, since you were supposed to stay in your room last night?” Dean raises a brow at his brother.

Sam turns a little red, hair falling in his face. “I just came out to grab a quick snack. Those fancy crab cake things looked so good.”

Dean shakes his head. “You sneaky little shit.”

“Whole lot of fancy douchebags if you ask me,” Sam mutters under his breath. Dean frowns a bit at that, since it doesn’t sound like Sam to say that. His little brother secretly loves the fancy shit.

“You run into anyone at the party?” he asks, watching his brother's face for any tells. Sam just shrugs again and keeps eating his messy waffle. “Uh-huh, come on Sammy, spit it out. What happened?”

“Was nothing, just talked to this guy a little, that's all. He caught me sneaking the crab cakes.” Sam keeps eating his waffle, avoiding looking at Dean.

Dean treads carefully. “So what did this guy say? Did he have a name?”

“Tall guy, blonde hair, blue eyes. I think his name was Luc.”

Dean feels his heart rabbit in his chest. He stays calm though, and reminds himself that Sam is sitting right here in front of him seemingly fine. “So, what did he say?”

“Just stuff.” Another shrug.

“Sam,” Dean adds, a little of that big brother authority to the name.

“He was just kinda creepy, okay? Asked me some questions, like my name and what year in school I was.” Sam looks up at Dean before back down at his food. “Just something about how he looked at me was weird. Probably just another asshole alpha.”

Dean grits his teeth. “Did he say anything else to you? Did he touch you?”

“God Dean, no, of course he didn’t. He just told me I was...pretty...and he hoped he’d see me again. Like I said, creepy alpha.” Sam goes back to his waffles while Dean tries not to lose his ever loving shit.

“You ever see that guy again, you go the other way, do you hear me? You come and get me or Cas, or someone else, and you leave. I don’t want that guy anywhere near you, do you understand me?” Dean knows he sounds angry, but he can’t keep the heat from his voice.

“I can take care of myself, Dean.”

“Sam, I mean it. Promise me.” He leans forward and makes Sam meet his eyes.

“Promise, Dean. Believe me, I’m not going anywhere near the guy.”

“Damn straight,” he grumbles. He’s crossing his arms and watching Sam carefully, when suddenly his brother nearly jumps out of his chair.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Sam starts flapping his hands at Dean, looking utterly ridiculous and trying to find his words.

“Whoa there. What is it?” Dean sees the smile on Sam’s face, so his nerves settle a little.

“Last night Castiel introduced me to Governor Jody Mills—you know, the one working on the Omega Rights bill? She’s amazing, like so smart, and really knows what she’s talking about. She offered to let me volunteer on her campaign!” Sam’s joy is a bit contagious.

“Yeah? That sounds really cool, Sammy.” Dean smiles, thinking it sounds boring as hell but that it's perfect for his dorky little brother.

“I know! You're okay with it, right? I can volunteer there?” Sam hesitates a little, hitting Dean with his best puppy dog eyes.

“Well, I wanna talk to Cas and see what he knows about her…but I guess if he trusts her, it’s okay.” Dean’s a little anxious letting Sam go work with a bunch of adults he doesn’t know, especially after this Lucifer incident. He’s going to keep a close eye on his brother.

“Thanks, Dean.” Sam fist pumps the air.

“For someone who wasn’t supposed to be at the party last night, you sure got around.” Dean lifts a disapproving brow at his brother. Sam has the good graces to look embarrassed before sitting back down and silently tucking into his food again.

Dean watches him eat, looking for any signs that Sam was lying to him about being okay after the Lucifer incident. Judging by the happy smile on his face, though, he figures Sam told him everything.

Dean isn’t sure what to do about it. Could he ask Cas to keep Lucifer from coming to the house again? It’s his brother and they do business together. He knows Cas wouldn’t let anything happen, but still…the whole thing doesn’t sit right with him. But Lucifer hadn’t actually done anything wrong, technically, so what could he tell Cas? _Your brother looked funny at mine, kick his ass out?_

Dean’s not so sure that would fly. He isn’t sure what to do, but he knows he needs to talk to Cas about it. Once he decides to take action, he goes in search of his alpha, hoping he’ll know what to do. 

Cas always knows what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, well, there you have it folks. Our boys are no longer alpha/omega virgins, hehe. 
> 
> Drop reactions down below!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evening, folks, and HAPPY 100K!!! It's absolutely bonkers that we've reached this milestone. We never set out to write something quite so ambitious together, but we love these boys and all the curveballs they've thrown us along the way. 
> 
> Speaking of curveballs, we'd be totally remiss if we didn't take an extra second to once again thank our beta readers, [WaywardJenn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardjenn/pseuds/waywardjenn) and [EllenOfOz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllenOfOz/pseuds/EllenOfOz) (who has published not one, but TWO amazing fics this week. Seriously, go check 'em out). These girls are so incredible and so dependable, often squeezing in a read with only a few hours to spare because we're still polishing things up on posting day. We appreciate you both so much and are truly thankful you've stuck with us! 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy the chapter, then come celebrate with us in the comments. We've pulled up (metaphorical) chairs and are pouring (symbolic) champagne to share 100k (and counting) with the best readers in the world. <3

Castiel leans into his office chair, attempting to sort through his email inbox. He’s trying to concentrate on work, he really is, but his mind keeps wandering. At the forefront, there’s the memory of how it felt to be buried inside of Dean—last night _and_ this morning—the hot, wet heat of his omega consuming him from the inside out. Then, there was the sight of Dean earlier at breakfast wearing his alpha’s clothes, grinning over his plate of french toast and playing footsie under the table. Surely there must’ve been another time in Castiel’s life when he’s been this happy…perhaps when Jimmy was alive, and Cas was just another blissfully clueless teenager. But since then, he’s only experienced flashes of happiness—sharing a laugh with Charlie, seeing Gabriel on holidays. His day to day existence has been grueling and empty…that is, until Dean Winchester appeared in his life.

He smiles to himself, remembering how they professed their love for each other just hours ago. He’s never been in love before, he’s sure of that now, because he’s never felt anything so intense in his life. When he’s apart from Dean he spends all his time wondering what Dean is up to, and when they’re finally reunited, there’s an innate sadness burning through him, realizing that they’ll be parted again. Not to mention the fact that Dean makes him want to be a better person, a better man, a better alpha. He sees the love and adoration in his omega’s eyes, and he wants to be worthy of such devotion. 

He blinks, realizing he’s been staring off into space and thinking about Dean for several minutes now. He chuckles in a self-deprecating kind of way, realizing he can officially classify himself as a lovesick fool. He’s not even ashamed to admit the hold Dean has over him—at least privately, where their relationship is safely guarded from the outside world. 

“Focus, Castiel,” he scolds out loud. The faster he gets his work done, the faster he’ll be able to seek Dean out again. He’s halfway through reading a troubling thread of emails, featuring some of his least favorite alphas—Lucifer and Dick Roman—when he hears a knock on his door. 

He glances and spots Dean, something inside of him relaxing at the thought of being in the same room as his mate. 

_His mate?_

He freezes, brain scrambling for some sense of reality. 

“Bad time?” Dean says with a frown, noticing the smile slipping off Castiel’s face. The alpha tries to recover quickly, shaking his head and giving a strained smile. 

“Maybe,” Castiel admits, then adds with a mischievous gaze in his eyes, “and if you were anyone else I’d ask for a moment alone to finish up. But those rules don’t apply to you, do they?”

Dean returns the grin and enters his office, walking steadily over to Castiel’s desk. He swings a leg over Castiel’s lap, hands entwined behind the alpha’s neck, straddling him. 

“Hi,” Dean murmurs, acting cute and shy. Castiel loves seeing all the various sides to Dean’s personality, the way he can be charming and cocky one minute and thoughtfully quiet the next. 

“Hello, Dean.” His omega is still wearing Castiel’s clothes, his blockers absent today, and Castiel takes a second to lean in and breathe deeply. Their scents are beginning to blend, and Castiel eases forward, letting it soothe him. Ignoring the fact that a scent bond is the first step to becoming mates, he drinks in the sight of the man sitting on his lap. His hands travel to Dean’s thighs, his back, before finally cupping his chin and bringing their lips together. The kiss is chaste and tender, but long, and it makes Castiel feel warm all the way to his toes. 

“You sure I’m not distracting you from work?” Dean asks softly. 

Castiel chuckles. “Oh, you’re definitely distracting me, but it’s a welcome sight.” He sighs, pushing their foreheads together. 

Dean, perpetually observant, asks, “What’s wrong, Cas?”

Castiel worries his lip, their foreheads still touching as he decides what to say. Finally, he chooses to go with the truth. If they’re going to endure another year and a half of sneaking around, they have to be honest with each other.

“I’m just not sure what to do anymore. I hate nearly all the people I’m in business with, and the thought that I’ve helped some of these alphas get richer and more powerful…it just makes me sick.” He closes his eyes, but can feel Dean’s gaze heavy on him. “My hands aren’t directly dirty, but they might as well be. I don’t want to be that person anymore, but I’m not sure what to do. I want to be better, be worthy of someone like you.”

He feels Dean shift around in his lap, feels lips press to his forehead. “Oh, alpha…” Dean noses against Castiel’s neck, leaving kisses on his scent glands that makes Castiel want to purr. “My generous, smart, perfect alpha. You know I’m the one not worthy of you, right?”

“Nonsense.” Castiel opens his eyes again and smiles, his heart so full it feels like bursting. “Dean…what do you think I should do?”

Dean exhales slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. “As awesome as it would be to give all those alphas the middle finger, Cas, I don’t want you thinkin’ you have to change for me.” Dean gives him a more serious look, pulling away to stare into his eyes. 

“It wouldn’t be just for you, though you’re certainly the main motivator,” Castiel admits, watching a gorgeous pink blush work its way onto Dean’s cheeks. He rubs his thumb over one cheek admiringly. “I’ve worried for years that Jimmy wouldn’t approve of what I’ve done to get ahead in life. I’ve just suppressed the guilt, buried my feelings so deep that I couldn’t feel anything at all. Not until you came along.”

He brings Dean’s hand to his lips, maintaining eye contact as he kisses each knuckle. The omega flushes above him, eyes gazing at Castiel with pure affection.

“Big ol’ sap,” Dean mutters. After a moment, he adds, “Can’t believe you’re askin’ me about all this. I don’t know shit about business, babe. All I got is a GED and a give 'em hell attitude.”

Dean shoots him a cocky grin, but Castiel doesn’t laugh. A moment later, he keeps his face neutral when he says, “I’m asking you because you’re one the most intelligent, resourceful, and empathetic people I know, Dean Winchester, and I never want to hear you say otherwise.”

“Oh, uh…thanks.” Dean blinks and his eyes shoot down, looking properly scolded for a moment as he mulls something over. Finally, he says, “If you really think you can trust Crowley, I bet he could give you legal advice for how to break the contracts.”

Castiel’s eyes shoot up, a smirk forming on his face. “See? That was exactly what I needed to hear. Thank you, Dean.”

Never one to take a compliment, Dean changes the subject. “Do you think it’ll be possible? Breaking the contracts, I mean?”

Castiel worries his bottom lip before saying, “For the right price, I’m sure. This will be a major financial hit, but worth it to clear my conscience.” He huffs a small, uncomfortable laugh. “If I’m being honest, any amount of money is worth getting Lucifer out of my life.”

At the name, Dean tenses suddenly, his hands slipping from Castiel’s neck to his shoulders. He stands up, leaving the alpha’s lap and sitting at the edge of his desk instead. 

“Yeah, um, about your brother…” Dean swallows, looking at Castiel unwaveringly. Cas frowns but listens closely, missing the warmth of his omega in his arms. “That’s actually why I came to see you. I was talking to Sam about the party last night, and he mentioned that he ran into Lucifer.”

Castiel feels his heart begin to race. He remembers with sudden, vivid clarity, the way Luc had looked at Sam that day at the pool party. It’s one of the reasons he had recommended Sam stay in his suite during the party, but when he found the youngest Winchester out on the patio and had the opportunity to introduce him to Jody Mills, it seemed worth the risk. Now he’s angry with himself—did his own recklessness lead to Sam getting hurt?

“What did my brother do?” he asks firmly. 

“Mostly just gave Sammy the creeps. Called him pretty, asked him a bunch of questions…” Dean bites his lower lip harshly, tipping his head back as he thinks. “Maybe I’m overreacting, but after some of the shit he’s said to me and about me, I don’t want him anywhere near Sammy.”

Castiel momentarily feels bile rise to his throat, attempting to block out all the memories of his brother sexually harassing his boyfriend. 

“He’s gonna present soon, y’know?” Dean continues, and Castiel nods. “I just worry about him. With his hormone levels, no fucking way he’s gonna be a beta. I don’t care if he’s an alpha or an omega—no matter what happens, if someone messes with Sam then I’ll probably end up arrested because that motherfucker is going down.” Dean sighs heavily, hands gripping the edge of the desk. “Am I just being paranoid?”

Castiel processes all this new information and shakes his head. “No, you’re not. Under no circumstances should Lucifer be allowed anywhere near Sam.” After a pause, the rage begins to fully set in. “Hand me my phone.” 

Dean turns around on the desk, and there, apparently, is where Castiel’s phone is hidden—buried underneath a mountain of paperwork. “What are you gonna do with it?” he asks slowly.

“I’m going to tell Lucifer to never set foot on my property again,” Castiel says, standing up abruptly and beginning to pace. The thought that something could happen to Sam is filling him with wrath, not unlike the time he saw Dean cornered outside the movie theater. Cas’ instincts to help, to protect, are in overdrive. “And if he does, I’ll tear him apart.”

“Woah, woah, Cas. Hold on—” Castiel dives for his phone but Dean grabs it first, holding it behind his back. “You know I feel the same way, but let’s talk about it first.”

“He’s threatening my family, Dean. I can’t let that happen.” He balls his hands into fists, wishing he had an outlet for the excess energy rolling off him. 

“But technically, _Luc_ is your family,” Dean reminds him in a small voice. “Me and Sammy, we’re just…”

“You’re family,” Castiel says decisively. “You and Sam. And Ellen, Jo, Charlie, Missouri… Gabriel too, of course.” His mouth twists tightly. “But not Lucifer. He’s just someone I happen to share genetic makeup with.”

Dean’s gaze turns astonished, eyebrows shooting up and mouth curved into a small smile. “You’re kinda amazing, you know that?”

“Thank you, Dean…” Castiel puts his hands on his hips, feeling focused again on telling his brother off once and for all. “But I still want my phone.”

Dean makes a grimace, shaking his head. “No can do, sweetheart. I’m pretty sure it’s only gonna take you an hour or two to come up with a better plan than cussing your brother out and burning all your bridges. That’s when you’ll get this back.” 

Castiel’s mouth hangs open in surprise. He’s irritated by Dean’s insistency, his level-headed bossiness, but if he’s being honest he’s also a little turned on. “Give me my phone. Your brother is under my protection, and I need to make that crystal clear.”

“Yeah? Well, right now you’re under _my_ protection.” Dean takes a few steps forward, slips a hand to the collar of Castiel’s shirt, and hovers enticingly close to his lips. Castiel’s eyes can’t help but be drawn in, wishing suddenly to close the distance between them. 

“This isn’t a game,” Cas says weakly, some of the anger already fading into the background as a new surge of emotions overtakes him. Anticipation, longing, desire.

Dean grins widely, as if a lightbulb just came on over his head. “You sure about that?” 

He turns unexpectedly and starts running, already through the doorway before Castiel quite realizes what happened. 

“C’mon, alpha,” Dean teases from several yards away. “You really gonna let me get away that easily?”

Castiel blinks rapidly, feeling a flash of color overtake his eyes. His omega is running from him, inviting him to chase, and something innately biological begins to overtake him. _Must find, must protect, must follow._ In no time at all he’s running at full speed, albeit uncomfortably with a partial erection pressing against his trousers. Dean had a good head start, but Castiel runs recreationally—plus he’s a determined alpha in the middle of a chase. Dean is only halfway up the stairs to the west wing when Castiel tackles him, nuzzing against his scent gland. Their shoulders are pushed together as he pins Dean to the steps, his erection strained against Dean’s thigh, and they both exhale heavily. 

“Fuck,” Dean breathes, pupils becoming dilated as he licks his lips, staring up at his alpha. “Wasn’t sure that would actually work. Thought it was a dumb myth.”

“Omega,” Castiel whispers, leaning over to lick desperately over the hickey he left last night on Dean’s neck. “Did I mention I love seeing you marked up? I love knowing you're mine.”

“Mmm, you did, my sexy, possessive alpha,” Dean whispers. “Gonna take me upstairs and have your way with me?”

“Yes, oh god yes.” Castiel cock twitches and he surges up to lick his way into Dean’s mouth—but someone clears their throat from the bottom of the staircase. Castiel’s eyes flicker down to see Ellen leaned against the railing, a plastered smile on her face. 

“Oh, hi boys. Glad you finally noticed me,” she says sarcastically. “Y’know, when I said I’d keep your secret, I didn’t know I’d be subjected to watching the first ten minutes of a porno.”

“Hey,” Dean argues. Castiel can tell he’s embarrassed, but rather than admit it, his boyfriend cracks a joke instead. “That’s not fair. If we were filming a porno, we would’ve been naked like five minutes ago.”

Chuckling under his breath, Castiel apologizes to Ellen and pulls Dean to his feet, attempting to take the steps in an unhurried pace. The minute they reach the top landing, though, and are officially out of sight, Castiel pushes Dean against the nearest wall and steals the breath from his lips. They kiss the entire way to the bedroom, and by the time the bedroom door is shut and Dean is naked again, Castiel has completely forgotten about why he even wanted his phone. 

One hour, two shared orgasms, and a twenty-minute knot later, it finally occurs to Castiel how Dean played him like a fiddle. 

“You used sex to distract me,” Castiel accuses, though he’s too exhausted and sated to sound put-out. Dean just snorts and buries his head further against Cas’ neck. 

“Uh, duh,” Dean says, as if it’s a no-brainer. “You were having an alpha tantrum and I needed to calm you down.” 

“An alpha tantrum?” Castiel repeats, actually finding enough energy now to sound aggravated, though truthfully he’s more amused. He adjusts his hips and his knot catches on Dean’s rim, making them both moan. “I’m thirty-two-years-old, Dean. I do not have tantrums.”

His boyfriend rolls his eyes and says, “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

Castiel snakes a hand up and pinches Dean’s nipples, making the omega arch his back off the bed, complaining that he’s half-hard again. They marvel for a moment at their current sex drive, wondering if they’ll always be this addicted to each other…or if it’s just the newness of their situation that makes their appetite so strong.

In the end it takes another round of sex, followed by their second shower of the day, a long walk outside, and a lengthy talk with Sam that evening, for them to finally decide what to do. Castiel will begin his efforts to distance himself from Lucifer financially, masking the true depth of his rage in order to keep both brothers safe. In the meantime, the locks will be changed, the manor will hire security more thorough than Jo and her strategically placed cameras, and the entire staff will be alerted to the news that Lucifer Novak is no longer permitted on the grounds. 

When it comes to Sam and Dean’s safety, Castiel is done taking chances.

***

Dean flips over to his back, letting the late August sun warm his skin. It’s been the most peaceful summer he can remember. He’d even managed to convince Castiel to let him shoot off some fireworks for the Fourth of July. He doesn’t know why the alpha was in such a tizzy—he only _barely_ singed his hair, and it's already grown out. He smiles at the memory of his alpha picking him up and tossing him into the pool. He told Cas he’d missed his calling as a firefighter. While he didn’t like purposefully scaring the man, it had led to some out-of-this-world sex.

Dean had more free time on his hands then he was used to, and with the nice weather he spent every minute he could outside. Castiel showed him how he gathered honey from his hives even though Dean wouldn’t go over. Way too many stingers for his taste. He did use the honey to make some baklava for them, though—a sticky sweet mess, but totally worth the effort. Dean could tell he was falling harder and harder for the alpha with every passing day. 

Worries over the threats of the asshole alphas and the contract diminished under warm summer sun. He still hadn’t told Bobby or his dad about his changed relationship with Cas. He chatted with Bobby, who kept accusing him of sounding way too happy and asking him “who the girl was.” A few times, Dean had almost blurted it out. He doesn’t think Bobby would judge him for being with a guy, but for being with an alpha? The old man is too overprotective. So Dean skirts the question and promises to try and come to Sioux Falls for Thanksgiving.

He would rather chop off his own foot than tell John. Luckily over the summer, he’d hardly heard from the man. He went over to fix the water heater when the valve broke, and John had said all of two words to him. Dean took it as a win. He dropped off some groceries and cleaned up the kitchen the best he could while he was there. When he’d gotten home, he’d had his first real fight with Castiel…since he’d gone to Lawrence without telling him. He’d known the alpha would freak out being worried about him, but Dean had dealt with John Winchester his whole life and he knew what he was doing. Still they had argued well into the night, till finally Dean conceded that he should have told Cas and Cas conceded that Dean had every right to go on his own if he wanted. Dean also learned just how good make-up sex could be.

Now, he hums happily and enjoys the feeling of safety he’s found in this little part of the world. He feels a chill, then and blinks up at the person blocking his sunshine. The mop of hair is a dead giveaway, even if he is squinting. 

“Heya, Sammy.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Sam asks, as he perches cross legged on the grass next to Dean. Kid is growing like a weed—he’s only an inch shorter than Dean now.

“Took the morning off. We’re working late tonight on a call with some company in another timezone. What are you up to?” Dean pushes himself to sitting, cracking his neck and giving his shoulders a roll. The tan and freckles help hide the hickey mark on his neck, but if anyone looked hard enough, they’d see it.

“I helped Alfie wash the cars this morning. I washed the Impala too, with that Armor All soap you like. He’s offered to drive me to Lawrence, actually.” Sam shifts where he’s sitting. Dean knows Sam too well and can sense a question coming.

“Spit it out already.”

“Well…I kinda need some stuff before school starts in the few weeks. My jeans are a little short, and I can reuse some of my binders with some duct tape, but I need some fresh paper, and—”

“Sammy.” Dean holds up a hand to interrupt him. “We can get you what you need, alright? How much do you need?”

Sam stares at the ground, pulling up the blades of grass, “I dunno, Dean. I don’t need much, and I don’t wanna put you out.”

Dean scowls before doing the mental math on his bank account. It will wipe him out, but he figures he shouldn’t have any major expenses on the horizon. “Grab my debit card from my wallet. You can spend up to five hundred, okay?”

“Dean, that's way more than I would need,” Sam protests.

“No it's not. You need new clothes—nothing fits your giant ass anymore. Get what you need for school, okay? I mean it.” Dean fixes his brother with his don’t-argue-with-your-big-brother stare.

Sam lets out a long sigh, blowing his bangs out of his eyes. 

“And get a haircut while you're at it.”

Sam smacks Dean on the shoulder, and pretty soon they can’t help but laugh.

“Thanks, Dean,” Sam adds, as he gets up and brushes off the grass from his jeans. They hear the back patio door open and close, and catch sight of Gadreel coming outside.

“Does he have to come with me?” Sam frowns at Dean.

Dean rolls his eyes. “He's not a bad guy, Sammy. And no, he isn’t your personal bodyguard. You and Alfie should be fine on your own.”

Cas hired Gadreel at the start of the summer, after their discussion about Lucifer. He seemed like a good guy, a solid beta, though he may be the most boring man in existence. He did take his job very seriously, maybe too seriously since he always seemed to show up wherever Sam and Dean went. Cas had said he hired him for general security around the property, but he felt more like a personal bodyguard sometimes.

Sam rolls his eyes at Dean in a way only a teenager can before he heads off into the house. Gadreel waves at them both before moving around the house, likely doing one of his checks.

Dean eventually grabs his towel and heads back into the house to change for work. He dons his grey slacks and light blue button-up that make him think of his alpha’s eyes. Man, is he one lovesick idiot or what? He hesitates before deciding to ditch his blockers. It’s not like they have any outsiders coming in today.

He finds Castiel at his desk with a pair of reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. Sleeves rolled up and his tie loose around his neck, Dean can see just the hint of his collarbone.

“How goes it, handsome?” Dean calls, closing the door behind him.

Castiel looks up at him. He pulls the glasses off his face, a small, relieved smile on his face. “Dean.” Just that one word, said like it's a prayer on his alpha’s lips, makes Dean’s heart thump in his chest.

“Long day already?” he asks, walking up to the man and carding his fingers through his wild, dark hair.

Castiel tips his head back into the touch, practically purring as Dean scratches at his head. “Yes. The launch of the new website has been delayed, so our closing call won’t be till eleven tonight.”

Dean nods, looking at the clock to see it's just past two o’clock. “Well, guess we’re in for a long night.” Dean shrugs, planting a kiss on the alpha’s head. “Mind if I work in here?” Dean knows it’s silly—his own desk sits just outside the office door—but something about being in the same room as Castiel just makes him feel better.

“Of course. There's a charger by the table.” Castiel smiles, looking a bit relieved just at Dean’s presence. Dean knows Castiel has been making big changes with his business, and not all of them have been easy on him to make.

He grabs his laptop and sets up at the small table in Castiel’s office. He works on files for Kevin as the afternoon wears on, finally stopping when Ellen brings them both pasta for dinner in the office. He feels his eyes getting a bit heavy, but things are picking up as Castiel and Dean are fielding more and more calls from his business partner in Australia. Charlie had flown to Australia to help launch the new site and had been calling off and on all day along with the CEO.

“Really? That’s great…she really is the best, yes… Alright, we can touch base tomorrow… Thank you.” Castiel hangs up his call. It’s almost midnight.

“Everything done?” Dean asks hopefully.

“Launch was a success, so yes, we are all finished. Glad I sent Charlie, though—sounds like she had her hands full.” Castiel sighs, leaning back in his office chair. Dean admires the alpha again—the rough looking stubble on his face and those broad shoulders. Just looking at Cas seems to turn Dean on. He shifts in his seat, and when Castiel looks up at him, his eyes darken.

He licks his lips as he slowly stands up, prowling toward the desk. The heated look in his alpha’s eyes feels like it's burning through him. Both of them could really use some sleep, but judging by the slick he can feel he is starting to produce, there are more important things to tend to first.

“Dean.” His name is said almost as a question as Castiel shifts his chair back, eyes still transfixed on his movements.

Suddenly the image he’d seen on the billboard all those months ago pops into Dean’s head. The business man and the omega by the huge oak desk, not unlike this one. With a plan in mind, he tries to keep a straight face as he turns his back to Castiel and leans over the desk on his elbows, clicking off Castiel’s computer. He innocently—well as innocently as Dean Winchester can—arches his back and sticks out his ass as he pretends to look for something.

“Can I help you find something?” Castiel asks, as he moves to stand behind Dean.

“I dunno…you're the only one that can give it to me?” Dean looks over his shoulder and winks.

“Careful what you wish for.” Castiel growls with a smile as he grabs Dean’s hips and presses his clothed erection up against his ass. Dean mewls at the touch, feeling more slick start up as his cock hardens.

“Make it good, alpha,” Dean teases, grinding himself back. Hands quickly move to undo his belt and button. Cas wastes no time in yanking them down with his boxers in one pull, leaving them around his thighs just above the knees, essentially hobbling him.

His heart rate picks up as he feels the air on his cock. 

“You gonna be good for me, omega? Already so wet and hungry for me.” Castiel’s low gravel makes his skin prickle.

“So good, baby, fuck me hard,” he pleads, gasping when he feels two fingers sink into him with a wet sound. “Ah, fuck,” Dean groans reaching forward to grab the edge of the desk for leverage.

“Smell so good. God, I’ve wanted you all day,” Castiel huffs, pulling out his fingers. There’s a shuffling and the clink of a belt before a firm hand presses him down hard against the desk, pinning him. Dean whines and wants to wiggle, but he can’t move. “Mine, my sweet, sweet boy.” Castiel thrusts in hard and fast, filling him up and pushing out a cry from Dean’s lips.

“Oh god alpha, fuck,” Dean groans as Castiel blankets his body over him, flattening him against the unforgiving wood as he wastes no time pounding into him.

Dean goes completely pliant as he feels a hand grip him tight at the base of his neck. His whole spine seems to loosen and he feels drunk on the sheer pleasure of it. Castiel is not gentle or soft or slow—he’s fucking Dean with a raw, feral energy. Dean gives in to it. His body throbs and pulses in ecstasy, every nerve feels like it's begging for more. He’s sure he’s gonna have some bruises on his hips and he can’t freaking wait.

“Alpha, alpha, alpha,” he pants, feeling Castiel’s knot growing bigger as it pops in and out of his rim, stretching him and building to a pleasure-pain crescendo.

“My omega, mine, gonna make you feel me, Dean. God, I love you so much. Want you to—want you—to come on my cock, omega,” Castiel growls in his ear before grabbing a bite of Dean’s shirt in his teeth, tugging. Dean swallows hard at the gentle pull at his throat and feels his hard cock throb and balls tighten.

“Knot me, please, knot me, alpha!” Dean cries out, and with a loud growl Castiel slams into him one more time before locking them together, hitting just the right spot so Dean is spilling all over the floor and desk. A warm sensation runs through him as Castiel pumps him full. He feels like he loses some sense of time as he floats on his orgasmic high.

He startles only a little as hands reach under his chest and stomach, lifting him gently off the desk. He groans, flopping his head back against Castiel’s shoulder and nuzzling into his familiar scent as Castiel seats himself and Dean in his office chair to wait out his knot.

Castiel holds him tight on his lap like he’s something precious, something important, and if Dean were a little more with it and not riding so many endorphins he might feel embarrassed or unworthy. As it is, he just soaks up the attention—Castiel’s fingers card through his hair as his hand rubs against his stomach in slow soothing circles.

“So beautiful,” Castiel whispers softly, as if to himself. “How did I get so lucky to find you?”

“Hmmm, must’ve been an angel in a past life or somethin’.” Dean feels his breath slow and body ease even as it still contracts around his alpha’s knot.

“Hardly an angel, but I’m trying...to be better for you.” Castiel’s voice is still soft as he plants a kiss on his forehead.

“Like you just the way you are, dummy. Don’t go changing,” he grumbles.

“We’ll see how you feel about that when I tell you about our dinner guest tomorrow.”

Dean freezes, a string of unpleasant people running through his mind. “Who’s coming to dinner?”

“The most annoying, insufferable, pushy, rude, and yet loving person on the planet. My brother, Gabriel. He sent me an email that he booked a flight for tomorrow morning. I hope that's okay?” Castiel sounds a bit concerned.

“Of course it's okay. I can’t wait to meet him!” Dean smiles genuinely, excited to meet the man he’s heard so much about.

“Yes, well we’ll see. Just remember how much you love me in this moment when Gabriel is embarrassing us both for his own amusement,” Castiel grumbles, but there is a warm, happy look on his face.

“I’ll love you even more if we can take a shower.” Dean sighs as he feels Castiel’s knot finally slip free.

“Shower I can do.” Castiel lifts him to his wobbly feet, taking a few tissues to wipe him down before pulling up his pants for him. Dean looks at the mess on the desk and some on the floor and scowls.

“I’ll take care of it.” Castiel smiles and pulls out some wipes from his desk, wiping away any evidence. Cas wastes little time hoisting Dean up into his arms to carry him to the west wing. Dean has long ago given up protesting being carried around. He lets himself like it—being taken care of and just a bit doted on. It's easier to let his guard down at times like this too, when the world seems so soft after coming so hard. Coming on a knot is a next level kind of orgasm. 

The shower washes away the long day and Castiel runs his hands over every inch of Dean, from his bowed legs to his hard nubs and into his sandy brown hair. By the time Castiel tucks them both in bed, Dean is happily drifting off to dream land without a care in the world.

***

When he hears the knock on the front door, Castiel abandons his half-empty glass. 

“He’s here,” he says excitedly to Dean, who just gives his wrist a squeeze and says, “Well, babe…better not keep him waiting.”

Castiel strides quickly to the door, hoping to greet his brother without Gadreel’s new form of interference… But the large and imposing security guard beats him to it, opening the door with an unfriendly glare on his face. 

“Cassie?” Gabriel says cautiously, stepping through the doorway. He throws his hands up, eyeing Gadreel warily. “You get a new guard dog and forget to tell me?”

Castiel flushes in embarrassment. “Gadreel, this is my brother, Gabe. It won’t be necessary to—”

But Gadreel is already patting Gabriel on the shoulders, the waist, then spreading the beta’s legs as his hands search for concealed weapons or wires. 

“Usually there are more drinks involved before anyone touches me _there_ ,” Gabriel quips, the security guard’s hand dangerously close to his crotch. 

“I apologize,” Castiel says in a rush, though Gabriel doesn’t look too mifled—surprised mostly. “We had some…security concerns, and Gadreel has been with my staff for about three months now. He takes his work very seriously.”

“Obviously. He thinks your own brother is gonna shiv you,” Gabriel snarks goodnaturedly. He’s finally given the all-clear and takes a step away from the imposing guard. 

“Mr. Novak said his family should get no special treatment,” Gadreel announces in an even tone. 

“That’s true,” Castiel concedes sheepishly. “I meant that more for my other brother, the one who lives locally… But I suppose there’s no harm in being thorough. Thank you, Gadreel.”

He takes Gabriel by the shoulder and leads him into the parlor, as his brother whispers, “No harm? Dude, he practically grazed the family jewels—there’s _a lot_ _of harm_!”

Castiel snorts and shakes his head, feeling immensely light just by the presence of his older brother being in his home again. It’s been a while, since Christmas at least, and things have changed so significantly for Castiel since then. Sitting in the middle of the parlor in a leather arm chair and a lowball glass of whiskey in his hand, is none other than…

“Dean,” Castiel greets warmly, as if they hadn’t just spent the last half hour together, drinking and preparing mentally for Gabriel’s visit. Dean stands up and smiles as they enter the room. “This is my older brother, Gabriel. Gabriel, this is my boyfriend, Dean Winchester. I wanted the two of you to have a chance to talk before we join everyone at dinner.”

Castiel watches them shake hands, a flutter of nerves echoing in his stomach. He’s not quite sure what he’s worried about, but he knows it has something to do with Lucifer. Dean already has an incredibly low opinion of Cas’ other sibling, and rightfully so. But Gabriel is someone who matters to him, who might sometimes be crass or cavalier but has a good heart, too. He wants Dean to see that not all of his family is a lost cause. 

“Nice to meet you,” Dean says pleasantly, as Gabriel’s eyebrows shoot up straight. 

“You hear that, Cassie? It’s _nice to meet me_ ,” Gabriel says with a grin. Dean’s smile falters a little in confusion, so Gabriel explains, “Cas has been a basketcase all day—texting me nonstop. Didn’t you notice, Dean-o? He’s convinced I’m going to scare his perfect omega away.”

Dean moves his gaze to Castiel, a sense of mischief behind his eyes that makes Castiel want to look away. “Oh yeah?” He slides his hand around Castiel’s middle, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Here, I thought you were a basketcase ‘cause you thought _I’d_ embarrass _you_.”

“What?” Castiel asks, flabbergasted. “No, Dean, absolutely not.” His eyes revert momentarily back to his brother, who gives him a slight frown. “Gabriel is right, unfortunately, but not because I don’t trust him. I suppose, after everything Lucifer has done to us, I’m just…” 

_Worried? Paranoid?_ He lets the sentence hang in the air stiffly, internally angry at himself for ruining the mood so early on. Dean is still gazing at him, a bit of worry etched on his face. 

“Listen, if you’re gonna make me talk about that great big bag of dicks as soon as I walk through the door, you can at least do me the decency of providing liquor first.” 

Dean snorts. “I got you, man. Take a seat.” He gives Cas a quick peck to his lips, a lightning-fast kiss that ends far too quickly. Still, the motion is reassuring, and some of the anxiety in his chest begins to loosen. Once Gabriel sits, Dean looks at Castiel and adds in an adorably bossy voice, “ _Both_ of you. Want your usual, babe?”

Castiel does as he’s told and sits, nodding and smiling. He ignores the head-tilt Gabriel gives him, prepared to be on the receiving end of surprised looks like this. Gabriel has never seen Cas in a relationship after all, especially not one as passionate and intense and domestic as what he has with Dean. 

“So,” Castiel asks idly, “how was your flight?” 

As Gabriel begins to answer, Dean makes Castiel’s gin and tonic, then breaks out the margarita mix for Gabe (“I live in Las Vegas, Cassie, tequila is a way of life”). All three of the men make small talk about airport travel (Gabe is pro, Dean is con) and when Dean finally sits back down, nursing his own whiskey, Castiel itches to slide the omega into his lap…only just resisting. He refuses to be that PDA-obsessed couple, but the pull between them is powerful and hard to resist. Apart from a few hours at work, he’s rarely around Dean anymore without touching him… Especially not when he’s drinking or feeling nervous. 

As if on cue, Dean stretches his foot and leaves his boot right next to Castiel’s own dress shoe. The alpha relaxes a little at the game of footsie, wishing with sudden fevency that he could scent Dean, just to steady himself.

“Okay, so you said Cas wants us to get along,” Dean begins casually, the minute there’s a lull in the conversation. Castiel doesn’t quite like being discussed as if he’s not in the room, but he figures this lighthearted teasing is harmless enough. “I figure, we got fifteen minutes till dinner… Think we can convince this guy that we’re BFFs before Ellen puts us through the big family dinner?”

Gabriel chuckles, tipping his glass in Dean’s direction. “Hey, you’re funny. You didn’t tell me he’s funny, Cassie.”

“Apologies,” Castiel says dryly, polishing off his drink in one remaining gulp. It’s his second one in the last hour…or perhaps his third? “Dean is also incredibly smart, an overprotective older brother like you, and an…Aquarius, I believe? Though you know I put little stock in astrology. Oh, and he’s the best kisser in the state of Kansas. Maybe America…or the world.”

They both chuckle and Castiel suddenly feels immensely light, giddy almost. Dean blushes a little.

“Think someone’s a lightweight before dinner,” he teases, his gaze nothing but affectionate. 

Castiel flushes, realizing he likely is a little tipsy. He tries not to drink too much—his brother’s mate lost her life due to a drunk driver, and Dean’s father’s alcoholism has triggered more hardship than Sam or Dean would ever care to admit. But Dean doesn’t seem upset or affected—in fact, he gives Castiel’s kneecap a squeeze and goes to refill his glass. Cas requests water, though, just to be sure he doesn’t make a fool of himself at dinner. 

“Alright, Winchester, if we’re gonna make my baby bro happy, we gotta expedite this whole thing.” He takes a sip of his drink, smacks his lips together, and says, “Pie or cake?”

Dean scoffs. “Pie. Obviously. You?”

“Both,” Gabriel answers happily. Yes, Castiel thinks, his brother always did have a sweet tooth. Luckily he picked up three pies from Dean’s favorite bakery this morning, hoping the entire household will share them after dinner. If not, between his brother and his boyfriend, he’s sure the pies will be put away easily.

“Guilty pleasure show?”

“Uh…” Dean scratches the back of his neck. “Gotta be _Dr. Sexy MD_.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows lift appreciatively. “Got a thing for brunettes, huh?”

“Eh, they’re alright,” Dean says, shooting Cas a wink. “What about you? Brunettes? Blondes?”

“I’m an equal opportunist,” Gabriel pronounces. 

“Gabriel imagines himself somewhat of a playboy,” Castiel explains to Dean.

“Yeah, yeah. Back in his single days, Cassie was just jealous that I got more ass than a toilet seat,” Gabriel says with a smirk. “But I’m tied down now. Got a girl back home—Kali.”

“I didn’t know that,” Castiel says, truly pleased for his perpetual bachelor of a brother. “I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah, well, she’s a smokin’ hot alpha so I’m happy for me too,” Gabriel says coarsely, grinning toothily. “You should see her in the sack. I swear, she must have four extra arms hidden away somewhere. The way she can hold me down, get between my dirty pillows while still having havin’ a hand wrapped around my—”

“Okay, I think that’s enough bonding time,” Castiel interrupts loudly, and everyone in the room laughs. 

When they eventually begin to quiet down again, Dean asks in a quiet voice, “So, did you mean what you said earlier? About Lucifer being a dick?”

Gabriel shoots him a sarcastic, comical glare. “Dean-o, I wrote the book on that guy. It’s called 'The World’s Biggest Dickwad,'” he says, swinging his drink around in his hand. “How my baby bro can ever stand being in the same room with that asshole, I got no clue. All I know is, Lucie’s a douche who’s got a one-way ticket to hell.”

“No arguments there,” Dean says, seeming relieved by Gabriel’s answer. “Cas told you about our situation, right?”

Castiel tenses for a moment. These days, even mentioning the contract makes his shoulders tighten. 

“What—that Cassie’s been trying to cut the cord with those asshats all summer, and they’re not exactly letting him go gently?” Castiel exhales, wondering if he should’ve taken Dean up on his offer for another drink. It’s true, Lucifer and his colleagues had been none too happy to find that Castiel (with the help of his anonymous and brilliant lawyer) found ways to abolish the business dealings between them. Some of those broken contracts had cost Castiel a pretty penny to abandon, including a sizable amount of stock in various Fortune 500 companies. Eight months ago, that amount of profit loss would have driven Castiel to obsession. But now, thanks to Dean… He no longer needs money to feel like he has purpose in life. 

He feels lighter, happier. Free.

“Yeah, there’s that,” Dean agrees. “But I was talking about the whole, being locked into a white-collar contract thing, and terrible shit going down if anyone ever finds out we’re a couple.”

Castiel feels slightly suckerpunched, but he supposes it’s a valid topic to discuss—the elephant in the room that no one wants to address. That’s not like Dean, though…he doesn’t skirt around things if he thinks they’re worth saying.

“It’s pretty fucked-up,” Gabriel says with a frown. “But don’t worry—I’ll keep your secret. I might give him grief sometimes, but Cassie is my brother, and I’d do anything to protect him.”

Dean nods agreeably, likely thinking he would do the same thing as a big brother. “I know what you mean,” he says simply. “I’m glad Cas has you, man. He deserves a good brother after all the shit he’s been through.”

Castiel looks away, feeling his cheeks begin to heat. He thinks Gabriel will tease him for it, but instead, he raises his glass and says, “Hear hear! I can see why you broke your rules for this one, Cassie. I like him.”

Castiel shoots Dean a small, shy smile. “Me too.”

And for whatever reason—through dinner and heaps of pie and nightcaps, through a waved goodbye as Gabriel heads back to his hotel for the night, through the late-night handjobs and whispered nothings he exchanges with Dean in bed—he can’t seem to prevent that small, shy smile from resurfacing. Gabriel approves of Dean, and Dean approves of Gabriel. The minute they’re alone after dinner, Gabriel had whispered, “Tell me you’re rethinking that ridiculous rule of yours, Cassie. It’s so obvious that you and green-eyes over there are the real deal. True Mates, with a capital ‘T’ and a capital ‘M’.” 

Castiel falls asleep thinking that the only person whose opinion he doesn’t have, but desperately needs right now, is someone who’s been buried in the ground for over a decade. Maybe that’s why he has a vivid dream that night, reimagining them back in the parlor having drinks—only this time Jimmy is there, teasing Castiel mercilessly before finally pulling him aside to admit, _“I’m glad you and Dean have what me and Amelia had That’s all I ever wanted for you, you know… For you to be happy.”_

Castiel wakes up with a smile on his face and tears in his eyes, wondering if it’s time to reexamine his position on mating. Legally he knows that becoming Dean’s mate wouldn’t break their contract—he’d looked that up himself in the fine print months ago, too cautious to ask Crowley directly—so they would have to wait sixteen months before making it official. But they already have a scent bond, are head over heels in love, and Dean is young and strong and healthy. Realistically, he knows the likelihood of Dean befalling the same fate as Jimmy is slim to none. Besides, he’ll never give Dean the chance to fall ill from his absence. Castiel has no intention of leaving Dean, ever—by choice or by fate, he would defy the will of god himself to stay at Dean’s side. 

Apart from Dick Roman, the only thing keeping them apart is Castiel’s own fear. A fear he thinks he might _finally_ be ready to leave where it belongs. 

In the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, don't you just _love_ love? 
> 
> If anyone's wondering, we're anticipating about six more chapters of this fic and an epilogue. Honestly, it might end up being longer than that—this has already gone on way longer than we originally planned, haha—but just to give you an idea of what we're planning. There's more story to come, loves!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evening, lovely readers!
> 
> As many of you guessed last week, the other shoe has to drop eventually, so… 
> 
> If necessary, _please_ check the content warnings at the chapter's end!
> 
> xoxo,  
> CB & TCBaby

Dean wanders into the kitchen to the smell of bacon frying.

“Did your nose lead you here?” Ellen chuckles.

“Hell yes it did. Want any help?” he asks, looking at the plate of scrambled eggs she put on the counter.

“Nah, it’s already done. Eat up.” She smiles, patting him on the cheek and moving some dishes to the sink.

“Morning.” Castiel’s rough morning growl greets him, and Dean spins around to see the alpha smiling at him.

“Morning, handsome.” Dean grins, pecking the alpha on the cheek. “Ellen made bacon!”

“That's why she's my favorite,” Castiel nods, as Dean elbows him playfully in the rib.

“So, what's on the docket today?” Dean asks, popping another piece of crispy bacon in his mouth…is there anything better?

“Well, Kevin called me. He’s home with a cold today—probably caught it from Charlie who is still on the mend—and I have a meeting all day in the city, so you’re a free man today.” Castiel moves around him to grab some bacon and eggs for himself.

“Really? Who are you meeting with?” Dean asks, sitting down at the table with his own plate.

“A few of my less reputable business partners…Roman, for one.” Castiel says the name like it physically pains him. “I’m bringing Jo with me for security, but I don’t want you anywhere near them.” Castiel glances at him worriedly.

“Hey, you don’t gotta tell me twice. Though I hate that you gotta be there.” Dean frowns down at his eggs.

“I know, but it's for the best. I’m ending a majority of my contracts, and selling off my stakes in those businesses, to break free from them. It's going to be a good thing,” Castiel says with a bit more conviction.

“Guess I’ll just hang out with Sammy today. Unless Ellen and Missouri need help?” Dean looks up to Ellen who is putting the last dish in the washer.

“Not today, honey. Missouri and I are going shopping for some new furniture for her suite, and then grabbing some supplies at Costco. You and Sam have some fun today.” Ellen gives him a wink and pat on the shoulder before heading out.

“Feel kinda guilty not working, but I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” Dean wonders if Sam will wanna go out and catch a movie, maybe visit Benny.

“You’ve earned a break, you’ve worked hard.” Castiel plants a kiss on Dean’s forehead as he grabs the dishes to bring to Ellen.

“What time are you gonna be home?”

“Hmm, probably not till late afternoon. Why?” Castiel walks over to Dean, leaning in to whisper, “Does my omega have plans for me?”

“Thought maybe you’d wanna go for a swim,” he whispers back, catching Ellen walking out of the kitchen with a roll to her eyes.

“I’ll never say no to seeing you all wet,” Castiel huffs, nipping at his ear, and Dean rocks forward against the alpha, already so fucking needy. He stifles a groan ands his cock twitches at the little sound of lust. 

“Fuck, Cas, you gotta stop getting me all worked up when you’re about to leave.” He nuzzles into his alpha’s throat, desperate to scent there…but not daring to, with his coming meeting.

“I’ll be home soon, I promise.” Castiel turns to face him giving him a long, slow kiss. “Have fun today, Dean. I love you.”

“Love you too, Cas,” he whispers back against his lips, before Cas pulls away and heads to the garage. Dean watches Alfie and Jo already out by the car, and they all wave before piling in and driving off.

Dean picks at some more bacon before making a plate for his lazy brother. He brings the food to the suite, plopping it on the small table and going to put on some comfy clothes for the day. He digs out his favorite soft jeans that he can’t give up—even with the rip in the knee—and his old AC/DC shirt.

“Rise and shine, Sammy!” Dean calls, banging on Sam’s door. He gets only a disgruntled groan in reply. “Your breakfast is getting cold!” he tries again, and is still ignored.

He sits on the couch and begins scanning movie times on his phone, sending off a text to Benny to see if he’s working and what's good to see. Benny says he has the day shift and that there’s a new Stephen King movie out. Dean loves a good slasher-horror flick, but Sam prefers a little more plot, so this is a perfect compromise for them.

“Sam,” he calls again, getting up, “dude, you gotta wake up. I wanna find some lunch before we go to the movies.”

There's no answer for a minute, and then he faintly hears what sounds like his name. Normally he’s all for privacy, but Dean is officially concerned now. 

“I’m coming in, little brother.” Dean opens the door as a smell hits him. It takes a moment for him to recognize it. It’s not a smell he’s encountered often, except with himself, but there is no mistaking it. 

Sam is in heat.

_Oh fuck._

Dean’s brain short-circuits a moment as the implications of this crash down on him. Sam is an omega. Sam is presenting! He stands there, unable to move or think. All he wants to do is throw his hands over his head and cry at how unfair the fucking universe is. But a small pained moan from the pile of blankets on the bed pulls him out of it.

“D-Dean?” Sam’s voice comes hoarse from the bed, and Dean takes a long, steadying breath. His brother needs him right now.

“Hey, Sammy. How are you feeling?” Dean moves to the side of the bed, pulling down the blanket to get a look at Sam.

His face is red and sweating, long hair tangled around him. “Dean, I don’t feel so good,” Sam mutters, turning on his side and kicking at his blanket. “So hot.”

“I know, Sam. Can you sit up for me a minute?” Dean feels his forehead and it’s scorching.

“Don’t wanna,” Sam whines, and sounds all of five years old again. It breaks Dean’s heart.

“Sam, I know you can do it. Just sit up for me, okay?” Dean guides his brother's shoulders as he pulls himself to sitting up against the headboard.

Sam blinks, looking down at himself and seeming confused, itching at his skin. “What's going on, Dean?”

Dean swallows hard, keeping his face as neutral as he can. “Sam, you're presenting right now. You're feeling so hot and disoriented because you're going into heat.”

Sam blinks at him a moment, like he’s trying really hard to process that and…can’t. 

“But—but only omegas go into heat, Dean. Only omegas have heats.” Sam says this like it answers everything.

_Oh god, he’s gonna make me have to say it._

“Sam, you are presenting as an omega. That’s why you’re having a heat right now.” Sam just starts shaking his head and pulling his knees up to his chest. “Hey now, look at me. Sam, look at me, alright?” Dean’s voice is firm enough that Sam finally looks up at him with scared, hazel eyes. “You are going to be okay. I’m here, and I will make sure that you are safe, okay? Do you trust me?”

“Dean,” Sam whines as his body shivers.

“Do you trust me, Sammy?” Dean keeps eye contact, and is relieved when some of the fear leaves Sam’s face.

“Yeah, Dean.” Sam nods, and Dean wonders when Sam grew up so much. He’d give anything for Sam to just be a little kid again.

“First things first, you need to go in there and take a cool shower. I’m gonna get you some fresh bed sheets and something to eat, okay?” Dean stands up, offering his brother a hand.

“Fuck, it hurts,” Sam groans as Dean hoists him to his feet, steadying him.

“Yeah I know, the first time is the worst. A shower is gonna help a lot.” Dean keeps a hand on his shoulder till he seems stable, and heads into the bathroom. Dean makes quick work of changing the sheets. They smell sickly sweet of heat—he almost forgot how intense the smell can be for an omega’s first time. Dean tosses the bedding into the hall for later and remakes the bed, grabbing the breakfast off the table and putting it on the nightstand.

“Doing okay in there, Sammy?” he asks the closed door, still hearing the water running. He gets a grunt in reply, and figures he’s okay for now. Dean heads back to his room and slides out the small emergency box he had stored under there. He’d really really hoped he wouldn’t need it.

He pulls out his phone and shoots off a quick text to Cas.

 **Dean 10:02 AM >> ** Uh bit of a 911 here Cas. Sam is going into heat. Call me.

By the time he comes back to Sam’s room, he’s sitting on the bed, hair damp with a t-shirt and boxers on. Sam hunches over his arms wrapped around himself, sweat already starting on his brow. 

“You gotta eat some food, Sam, believe me…it only gets harder to stomach food later, okay? Eat up.” He watches as Sam nods, grabbing the plate and eating some begrudgingly. Dean holds the box tightly on his lap and waits till Sam eats most of his food and drinks a glass of water.

“W-what’s that?” Sam points towards Dean’s lap.

_Now for the hard part._

“This is for you. This should help you through your heat.” He shifts the box over to his brother.

Sam takes it from Dean and peeks inside. “Dean! What the hell!”

“Sammy, these are a fact of life, okay? Believe me, it will get really painful without them. They are all new, and they are meant for…for beginners.” Dean feels heat creep up on his face.

“I can’t. You can’t really expect me to…” Sam trails off, looking horrified.

“I know, alright, I get it. You think I want to buy you heat toys? No, but here we are. It's not so bad, I promise, and it will make things hurt a lot less.” Dean can’t believe he’s giving Sam this talk.

“I’m fine. I can just tough it out.” Sam nods, trying to shift the box back to Dean…who puts out a hand to stop him.

“You’re fine now, Sam, but you just started your heat. It's gonna get a lot worse, okay, and your needs are gonna get a lot stronger. Just keep them nearby, in case you need them. Take some Advil too, it should help the fever.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Sam says in a low whisper almost to himself, pulling a pillow into his lap and clutching at it.

“I know, believe me…this is not what I wanted for you, Sam. But I’ve got you, alright?” Dean doesn’t really know what else to say.

Sam just nods. “Think I might sleep a little.”

“Sounds good. Get some rest and I’ll grab you some lunch later.” Dean stands up, hesitating a moment before he leans in giving Sam a hug. Sam grips him tightly before letting him go with a small, sad smile.

Dean sneaks out of the room and pulls out his phone, but there’s no reply from Cas.

 **Dean 10:23 AM >> ** Kinda worried about Sam here, call me as soon as you can

As Dean sits on his couch, he feels the fear creeping up on him. He really wants his alpha here to tell him it’s all going to be okay. He knows he should be more nervous about having an alpha anywhere near his brother right now, but somehow it doesn’t even cross his mind to doubt Castiel. He knows in his gut that Cas would never harm Sam, and he knows that while other alphas might easily give in to the scent of an omega in heat, his alpha is stronger than that.

_Come on Cas, where are you?_

_***_

On the twentieth floor of a skyscraper in Kansas City, Dick Roman sneers at Castiel from across a large conference table. 

“So you’re saying, after being an investor of SucroCorp for years,” Roman begins in a deep and dangerous voice, “that you’re…what, exactly? Done with us?”

“You heard him,” Raphael grumbles, touching his tie absently as he sits up. “He’s tired of making money.”

Castiel resists the urge to squirm in his chair. He’s currently in the SucroCorp quarterly shareholders’ meeting, generally an all-day event filled with budgets and projections and updates on stocks. It’s a meeting Castiel has always loathed, simply because of the company he’s surrounded by. But now that he’s retracting his support from Roman’s company, it’s a meeting he’s dreaded for completely different reasons. 

“I’m not tired of making money. Only dirty money,” Castiel says coldly. Unfortunately he can’t dissolve his assets from SucroCorp entirely, since that deal includes an item he bargained for one day on a whim: Dean’s contract. 

Thankfully, he should be able to locate a buyer willing to take enough of his shares, and Castiel can wash his hands of this group.

From the other end of the table, Abaddon snorts. “I don’t know what sort of ‘crisis of conscience’ you’re going through, Castiel, but it sounds dull and boring. You should learn where your loyalties lie.”

Castiel clasps his hands in front of his opened portfolio, which is more of a decorative object at this point than an actual notepad. He’s been in this meeting for hours already and has been eagerly awaiting the chance to announce his plan to step back.

“This will be my last shareholders meeting,” he says in an even voice. He scans the room—there are twenty alphas in the room with him, and dozens more shareholders who aren’t present. It’s intimidating to stand up to them after years of accepting their bad behavior as something to overlook, to ignore, to accept. 

But he thinks of Dean—his integrity, his moral compass, his faith in Castiel. And he says, “I’m in the process of finalizing the paperwork with a potential buyer. Once it goes through, I’ll only retain a small percentage of the equity. The new investor will take over the bulk of the communication in my stead.” 

The room seems momentarily stunned into silence…until Lilith chuckles, a nasually, high-pitched sound. Roman shoots her a glare, and she holds her hands up as she continues to laugh. 

“What? Tell me it isn’t a _little_ funny.” She shakes her head, blonde curls rustling behind her back. Castiel marvels, not for the first time, that someone so attractive can be so hideous. 

“Hold your tongue,” Raphael snaps, “unless your point is to irritate us.”

“Oh, I’m irritating? Months ago, Roman enticed Castiel to snatch an omega bitch from right under his nose—” 

“Dean has nothing to do with this,” Castiel interjects a little too sharply. Roman’s eyes travel to his face, scrutinizing him, jaw set hard.

“Now, that _same_ omega is pulling the strings and cutting off everyone’s favorite blue-eyed cash cow,” Lilith finishes with a flourish. “It’s hilarious, when you think about it.”

Lilith’s words settle around the room, and Castiel tries to think of something to say, but can’t. Her assumptions are a little too close to the truth.

“You’re right, Lilith. That _is_ funny. And an interesting theory.” Roman grins at Castiel, teeth wide and sparkling, almost predatory in his sudden interest. “You can leave now, Castiel. This meeting is for shareholders, and you’ve made your intentions very clear. But know that if you leave now, you’re crossing a line…” He pauses, eyes turning dark as he stares at Castiel menacingly. “And there will be consequences.”

Castiel stares the alpha down in return, attempting not to flinch. There will be time to ponder Roman’s threats, to wonder if there’s any actual heat behind them. But for now, he simply stands and gathers his briefcase, eyes unwavering from Roman’s glare. He thinks about saying something petty and insignificant as he goes— _I’ve always hated you all,_ or _go to hell, all of you!_ But the way Roman had seemed so interested in discussing Dean has him feeling shaken, and in the end, he opts out of his big, dramatic exit. Dean’s safety is the most important thing, and he doesn’t want to say or do anything else that might attract the alphas’ wrath. 

When he exits the conference room, Jo glances up from her spot on the couch, a slight frown on her face. 

“You’re finished early,” she comments. 

“I’m done here,” Castiel says briskly, both in the sense that he’s done today and done in general. It feels satisfying, if not a little nerve-racking. He wonders if he’s gone too far, if he’s made things difficult. All he’s ever tried to be is a better man, a better alpha, for Dean… But was it selfish, cutting off his business ties and inciting their rage?

He slides his phone out of his briefcase. It’s nearly two o’clock, and he hasn’t received any phone calls or texts. He misses Dean, but he’s sure the Winchesters are enjoying some lighthearted brother bonding time. Still, with Roman’s threats looming in his subconscious, he can’t help but ask… 

“Have you heard from Dean?” 

“Nope. Haven’t heard from anyone,” Jo complains, hitting the button to the elevator as they wait for the _ding._ “Heard some secretary say there’s a phone tower down, and reception is spotty.”

Castiel bites his lip, checking his phone again as if something might’ve changed. But no…he has no bars, no service. Every text he sends Dean instantly bounces back.

They walk swiftly toward the parking garage and locate Alfie parked under an awning, eating a packed lunch and reading a book. They knock on the window and the driver shuffles quickly to unlock the doors, Jo sliding in the front. 

“Didn’t expect you back so early,” Alfie comments. 

“Still wanna run those errands before heading back?” Jo asks conversationally. Castiel is distracted by thoughts that are full of anxiety and worry, a sudden fear that something awful might be happening. 

“Cas?” Jo asks, voice softer this time. 

“What? Oh, apologies.” He clears his throat, glancing out the window again, eyes fixated on an unremarkable stone column. “No, let’s head home.”

Jo rolls her eyes. “C’mon, Cas, you can trust Dean to be alone for _one_ day.”

“I know that,” Castiel replies defensively. “It’s more…everyone else I don’t trust.”

“But they have Gadreel,” Jo points out reasonably. “Come on, he’s not expecting us home for a while longer. And you were buzzing about some errand you wanted to run this morning!”

“She’s right, boss,” Alfie adds, and Castiel resists the urge to narrow his eyes at both of them. 

“Fine, fine,” Castiel says with a sigh. He hands Alfie his phone, where he’s typed out an address of a store he’s been eyeing for a long, long time. “Let’s go here.”

After a few minutes of traffic and some aimless chatter between them, a sign in black cursive font appears around the corner: _Sergei’s Fine Jewelry._ Alfie stays in the car as Jo and Castiel head inside, wandering around the showcases and displays. The store is a little off-color and strange, with billowing maroon-patterned curtains and sparkling lights reminiscent of a magic shop. That’s to say nothing of the proprietor himself, a beta in a black, button-up shirt with an accent that sounds vaguely Russian. 

“Uh, Cas,” Jo whispers, tugging on the alpha’s sleeve, “not that I don’t like supporting local business, but…what are we doing here?”

Castiel gives her a small, warm smile and exhales. “This is where Jimmy went when he bought Amelia’s engagement ring,” he admits softly. “And I always thought that, if I found someone special, I would…”

He isn’t sure how to finish that sentence, but Jo is suddenly giddy, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. “Wait, are you saying what I _think_ you’re saying? You’re going to propose…?”

Castiel allows the image to full up his senses: him on one knee, Dean’s sparkling green eyes above him, their lips meeting as happy tears spill over their cheeks.

“Not yet,” he replies quietly, “not with the contract hanging over us. But one day I will. There’s something else I’d like to get him first, though.” 

Jo nods happily, seeming to accept that answer, and Castiel goes to seek out Sergei. The eccentric man points out a selection of unique promise rings, and Castiel spends the rest of the afternoon picking out the perfect one: a gleaming silver band with a green, jeweled stripe in the center, the same shade as Dean’s eyes. 

“Give me few weeks to size band,” Sergei explains, in that same clipped, accented tone. Castiel had expected as much, though he wishes he could leave with the ring now. He wants to go home, sweep Dean off his feet, and admit that he’s been thinking nonstop for weeks about finally mating his omega. In his head, he rehearses what he’ll say: _This ring is a promise to you, a promise of someday being together in every possible way._ Or maybe: _I promise to love you forever, Dean Winchester. I promise that, when this is all over, I’ll show you just how much._

He returns to the car in a much lighter mood. Not even the memory of Roman’s earlier sneer, or the annoying lack of cell reception all day, can dampen his spirits. After all, he’s on his way home to his boyfriend. His omega. 

His one future mate. 

***

Dean has gone from concerned to downright worried. No one is answering their phones and it’s mid-afternoon now. He’s been too busy caring for Sam to try any other way of contact. Gadreel is nowhere to be found, but Dean thinks that’s likely for the best as well. He doesn’t want too many people near Sam when he’s like this. Even going to the kitchen to get Sam a Gatorade, Dean can still smell the sweet omega heat scent. It’s never stronger than on an omega’s first day of their first heat. Some biological bullshit about attracting a mate.

 **Dean 3:26 PM >> ** Could really use you right now Cas. I need some of those heat pain meds for Sam. Why aren’t you answering your phone? Are you ok?

Dean tucks his phone back in his pocket and knocks on Sam’s door, peering inside to see his brother curled in a ball under a thin sheet. “Hey, Sammy. I got some more Gatorade for you. Can you sit up and drink some for me?”

“No, just leave me alone, Dean,” Sam mutters from the bed.

“Grumpy little jerk, aren't ya,” Dean tries to tease, but it only makes Sam curl in on himself more. “Come on…you need to stay hydrated, remember?”

Dean manages to get Sam to sit up enough to drink half a bottle before he collapses back down. 

“Sometimes walking around a bit helps keep you loose, or your muscles will just cramp up, okay? I’ll be on the couch if you need me.”

He goes to stand and watches as Sam struggles not to rock back and forth on the bed. The need will be getting strong soon, and Dean knows Sam hasn’t touched the box of toys yet. Dean had gone through his first heat without anything and swore he wouldn’t let Sam suffer the same fate if this ever happened. He remembers the pain and fear and not knowing what was happening to him. Poor Sam had been so young and confused, just bringing him food and water and sleeping outside his door like a little guard dog. He had terrified Sam with his pained cries despite how hard he had tried to stifle them. He decides to not push the issue now though, and moves out to the living room, hoping Sam will sleep.

He tries to sit still, but he feels a bit like a caged tiger, and the urge to do something gets the best of him. He goes and grabs the pile of bedding in the hall and carries it down toward the laundry shoot Jo showed him once. He hears the sound of the front door open, and sighs in relief that someone is finally home.

Dropping the bedding, he looks up to see a familiar and unwelcome set of blue eyes. Dean’s blood runs cold through his veins as every muscle in his body stiffens.

Lucifer Novak.

He stares frozen as Lucifer walks right into the foyer with Raphael, another older alpha he doesn’t know following behind. His cold, shark eyes land on Dean as his lips curl up in a threatening smile.

“Well, here's the little trouble maker in the flesh,” Lucifer hums slowly, stepping closer.

_How the fuck did they get in here?_

“Seem surprised to see me, little bitch, but this is my house. You didn’t think one little guard was going to keep me out, did you?” Lucifer grins again, and his lackeys laugh softly, moving out a little. Dean can feel them starting to surround him. What on Earth does Lucifer mean by that, anyway? Is Gadreel knocked out somewhere, or did the sleazy alpha pay him off?

“Get out of here, right now, or I’ll call the cops,” Dean threatens. The alphas only smile wider at him. “Cas will be home soon and he doesn’t want you here.”

“Raphael informed me of my brother's foolish behavior today. I came to have a chat with him about his choice of business investments, but now I’m thinking I should get a taste of the sweet pussy that made my brother lose his damn mind.” Lucifer's grin turns more fierce, as the alpha pulls his shoulders back and sucks in a breath. That's when Dean sees it—the alpha has caught the scent of Sam’s heat. Terror floods through him.

“Leave!” Dean growls. “It's the last time I’m telling you, asshole.” Dean knows he’s stalling. Taking on three adult alphas, three alphas who have scented an omega’s heat…he is beyond out-matched here. He can only hope they assume it's _his_ heat and don’t figure out it's Sam.

“I’m not letting some uppity little bitch kick me out of my family home,” Lucifer growls, stalking closer. “I think it's time someone showed you your place.”

 _Come on Cas, where are you?_ Dean thinks desperately. A moment later, he hears a door creak open down the hall.

“Dean? What's going on?” Sam’s groggy voice reaches them, and his eyes go wide at the sight of the alphas.

“It’s not your heat, is it, Dean-o? Sweet little Sammy, a fresh new omega virgin?” Lucifer’s eyes gleam red now.

“I haven’t had one of those in years. How about you, Azazel?” Raphael asks the other alpha.

“No, I haven’t had a taste of fresh heat in a few years. It smells so damn sweet.” The other alpha’s eyes glow a sickening yellow, and Dean feels his heart rabbit in his chest.

“Sam, get inside and lock the door now!” he hisses, shifting himself to block the hallway.

“It's alright Dean, you're off the hook. There's a much more tempting piece of ass on the table now. I promise, we’ll take good care of baby bro.” Lucifer laughs now, only feet away. Dean hears the door click and lock shut behind him, and feels a tiny bit of relief. He doesn’t think a locked door will stop them, but it’ll at least slow them down.

“If you think you’re laying one hand on my brother, you're out of your goddamn mind. I will end you, Novak,” he snarls, fists clenched at his side. How had they even gotten in here? Cas had promised it was safe—promised Lucifer wouldn’t come near them.

“Big threat, little omega. You really think you can take us on? Raph, take care of him while I go find little Sammy.” Lucifer smirks as Raphael storms toward Dean.

Dean shifts back into the hallway. They will have to go through him first…which is exactly what they seem to want to do. Blood thrums through his veins as he lets out a snarl, launching himself at Raphael. He ducks the first swing and lands a hard shot to the guys kidneys. He doubles over enough for Dean to knee him hard in the nose, and he feels the crunch of bone as he kicks the guy in the chest, making him tumble back into the other alphas.

“You bitch!” Azazel growls, and launches at Dean, eyes still that sickening yellow. He dodges one hit but takes another to the gut that knocks the wind out of him. He stumbles and struggles to keep his feet under him before he throws another punch, only to have his hand caught. The alpha’s strength crushes and grinds the bones in his hand. He stifles a cry as he kicks the guy hard in the nuts, earning him a grunt of pain as his hand is released. He reels back and swings as hard as he can, nailing Azazel across his cheek bone and making the alpha stumble against the wall.

“That's it. How dare you lay a hand on an alpha, you ungrateful little whore.” Lucifer comes at him, and the man is terrifying. The scent of angry alpha makes Dean nearly gag, but he tries to remember everything his dad taught him about fighting. He fakes left before pulling a hard right hook and connecting with Lucifer's eye. The alpha snarls but only slightly shifts back. Dean’s sure it's gonna bruise like hell, and he only hopes he broke the fucker’s face.

“You're going to regret that.” Lucifer glares at him.

“Doubt it.” Dean quirks a cocky brow and takes a defensive stance again, praying that help comes soon.

Before he can so much as draw a breath, all three alphas charge him. It's a blur of kicking limbs and flying fists and hard punishing hands all over him as he’s wrestled to the ground. He gets the wind knocked out of him as his hands are pinned behind his back. He struggles to free himself from their grip, cursing and snarling and kicking out. One of them laughs hard as he tears at Dean’s t-shirt, and rips the fabric out from under him. He feels them take the remains of his favorite shirt and knot it around his wrists, painfully tight.

“Get off, you motherfuckers!” Dean struggles to free his hands, but the knots are tight and there's a heavy boot pressing into his now bare back, holding him down.

“Scrappy little bitch, ain’t she?” Azazel laughs hard, his friends grinning at him in triumph.

Lucifer kneels down and looks at Dean with a soft, pitying look. “You got a few good licks in, Winchester, I’ll give you that. Told you you’d regret it though. Every hit you inflicted on us is gonna be double for little Sammy in there. You remember that when you hear his cries, you little whore. You're the reason he’s going to hurt when I take him, and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it.” Lucifer's voice is calm and cool, no hint of anger. As Dean looks at the alpha, he realizes what a true sociopath he is. “Maybe I’ll even claim him, sink my teeth into that milky white flesh and make him mine for good. Would be nice to have a pretty young thing to bounce on my knot whenever I want.”

Dean’s stomach revolts, and it takes everything he has not to vomit. He hears a small whimper from the shut door and fears that Sam might try and come out to help. He prays his brother is smart enough to stay safe and stay where he is.

“Don’t touch him,” Dean heaves out, struggling in his binds and only giving himself a rug burn on his chest. Lucifer only smirks and moves to head to Sam’s door. Dean panics, still fighting, and can only think of one thing left to offer. 

“Stop, alright, just stop! You—you can have me. Just leave Sam alone. Please.” He can’t believe he’s actually begging these alphas to fuck him. The words taste bitter on his tongue. “Just take me, okay? If you need an omega, take me. I promise I won’t fight.”

Lucifer turns halfway down the hall to look at Dean. “Get him on his feet,” he barks, and Dean feels hands grasp his arms, dragging him up to standing. He wavers a little, thinking he must’ve banged his head pretty hard when he went down.

The alpha looks him up and down, assessing, his eyes still glowing a menacing red. Dean tries to stay still, hoping Lucifer takes his offer and leaves his brother alone. He can only hope Cas or someone will show up before things get too far.

“That really is all you have to offer, isn’t it, omega? Maybe you’re finally learning that all you’re good for is a warm set of holes to fuck.” Lucifer reaches out to pinch one of Dean’s nipples, making him grunt as he presses his lips together. “It's a sweet offer, but I have better plans for you.”

Lucifer steps back, pulling out his phone. Azazel leans in and licks a wet, disgusting swipe up Dean’s neck. 

“I can smell the sweet heat on you. Absolutely delicious,” Azazel whispers in his ear. Dean clamps his mouth shut so tight his teeth grind.

“Ah, yes. Officer Walker, please?” Lucifer looks over at Dean, smiling with the phone to his ear. “Hi there, I need some assistance at my family residence. One of the staff has become violent and attacked me and my associates… Yes, I need a cruiser out here to arrest him right away…a menace to society…wonderful, thank you Gordon.” With a swift click, Lucifer tucks his phone away. “I think getting you out of the picture will be best for everyone involved. You understand, don’t you, Dean? I’m just looking out for my family, like you should have been looking out for yours.”

“You can’t do this. You attacked me first!” Dean snarls.

“Hmm, I don’t think the officer will see it that way…and it’s our word against yours. Plus, I see bruises and split-lips on all of us, while you look perfectly fine to me.”

Dean glances down. Most of his bruising is to his abdomen, his ribs, and his hands. But his face is perfectly fine. At first glance, Dean would look like the aggressor.

“You don’t think my brother will want anything to do with a criminal, do you? What will that do for his reputation?” Lucifer smiles, patting Dean on the cheek with mock sympathy.

Dean roars and struggles in his binds, until a firm hand wraps around his throat and tightens. He gasps for air, struggling for an entirely different reason now. The alphas laugh as the hands grope at him, dragging him toward the front door. He tries to fight, but he’s dizzy as he tries to get enough air. His only relief is that they are moving away from Sam’s door.

He sees police car lights approaching up the drive and he panics. How can this be happening? Where is Cas? He can’t leave Sam alone at the mercy of these guys. His brother needs him—he can’t fail him, not now. The officer gets out of the cruiser and Dean’s stomach sinks at the sight. He’d heard Lucifer use the name, but it hadn’t sunk in till he saw the feral grin of Gordon Walker.

Dean had almost forgotten that Gordon is a cop. He’d always just thought of him as his dad's drinking buddy. Or the asshole who had come on to him and gone after Sam, chasing him out of the house. Why did it have to be _this_ cop?

“Winchester’s boy causing all the trouble, huh? Not surprised. His brother’s a little shit, too,” Gordon grumbles, moving up to Dean with a pair of handcuffs.

“Yeah, his pretty little brother is currently going into his first heat. Little family of bitches, apparently.” Lucifer smirks. Dean struggles to defend himself, but he can’t get any words out around the grip on his throat by Raphael.

“Phew, just wait till John hears about this.” Gordon shakes his head. “You know, you should give the guy a call. Bet once he knows his other son’s a little bitch, he’ll sell you his contract. Man’s hard up for drinking money.”

Dean feels his knees go weak at the very thought. His dad wouldn’t do that, would he? Not to Lucifer. He wants to believe John wouldn’t, but after watching him deal away his own contract to Roman, he fears the same fate for his brother. Steel cuffs snap tight around his wrists as the shirt is tugged free.

“Come on, you little shit.” Gordon grabs the back of Dean’s neck hard, shoving him toward the cruiser.

“S-s-stop p-please, you can’t do this. Gordon, please,” he begs, trying to clear his throat. The alpha just presses harder to his neck, making his muscles go weak, and he curses his biology. He catches sight of a car rolling up the front drive and he sees it’s Alfie. He’s flooded with relief.

“CAS!” Dean screams at the top of his lungs, as he’s shoved hard into the back seat of the cruiser, the door slamming on him. He scrambles to right himself, pressing up against the slightly cracked window. “Cas!” he yells again, and sees his alpha then, leaping from his car and catching sight of him, eyes wide with shock. His alpha runs to the cruiser as Gordon slips into the driver’s seat.

“Dean! What’s happening? What’s going on?” Castiel calls to him, hands against the side of the cruiser.

“Cas, you have to protect Sam, please, protect him. He’s in heat—you have to protect him. Promise me!” Dean begs, and now he feels tears pricking his eyes…goddamn it, why is he crying now?

“I promise. But Dean, I don’t know what’s going on!” Castiel looks stricken as the car begins to pull away. He moves to jog after it.

“Stay and protect Sam! If you love me, protect him!” Dean yells, and Castiel halts, looking back over his shoulder. The three alphas have gone back into the house. Dean scrambles to turn around and look out the back window, but Gordon is driving away. Castiel gives Dean a quick nod and runs full-tilt back toward the house. Dean only prays Castiel isn’t too late as the tears run down his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: attempted rape, non-consensual touching, canon typical violence
> 
> \--
> 
> We know, we know… We are waiting for you in the comments. <3


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments last week! 
> 
> So even though we tried to anticipate all potential tags for this story—we've always had this story marked "angst with a happy ending" for example—we recently decided to add the "heavy angst" tag. We know we're entering some difficult territory here, so we want you guys to be fully prepared for what's ahead. As such, please check the content warnings at the chapter's end (if needed).
> 
> We love you guys so, so much. No joke, we talk and think and write and daydream about this story every single day. We love your enthusiasm for it and wouldn't know what to do without y'all.
> 
> **** TRIGGER WARNINGS IN END NOTES ****

Castiel’s body is pumped full of adrenaline as he runs back toward the house.

“Boss…?” Jo begins, standing outside of the car in a sort of daze. Alfie is sitting behind the steering wheel, window rolled down. “Did—did Dean just get _arrested_?” 

“Follow the police cruiser! Don’t let it out of your sight!” he shouts to Alfie. He turns to Jo with the same amount of urgency in his voice, ignoring her questions. He doesn’t have any answers, though it does seem like Dean has, in fact, been arrested. “You, come with me. We have to pray we’re not too late.”

He continues to run up the porch steps without pausing to see if Alfie or Jo have followed his instructions. He has no idea who’s inside his house—from a distance, he only spotted the back of three figures walking through the front door—but Dean had spoken with real terror in his voice. Whatever is going on inside with Sam has to be worse than Dean being arrested, which is one of the worst things Castiel could ever imagine. Those figures must be truly heinous individuals…likely three of the many pissed-off alphas holding a grudge against him. But what would they want with Sam—he hasn’t even presented yet! 

That fact immediately presents itself as untrue the closer he reaches the hallway of Dean and Sam’s suite, and the scent of fresh omega heat begins to permeate his senses. _Oh god._ Sam is an omega? And these intruders—are they after Sam? 

He begins to run faster. He would never forgive himself if something happened to Sam, especially not when Dean has entrusted his brother to Castiel’s care. 

“Do you smell that?” Jo asks in a hushed whisper behind him. “It smells…oh god…”

Jo’s eyes flash a momentary shade of red, and Castiel wonders for a second if he’s going to be forced to send Jo away and protect Sam alone. Rationally, he knows the smell should make him go haywire—an omega’s first heat is incredibly powerful and intoxicating, similar to a vampire catching the scent of blood. The biological intensity fades after the initial heat, but an alpha’s draw to the omega will be overpowering to anyone but family. 

But the scent doesn’t affect Castiel in the slightest—in fact, it only makes him think of protecting and guarding, of family and love. Does that mean the scent bond between him and Dean is so strong, that Sam has become like biological family to him?

Whatever is causing his immunity, he’s incredibly thankful for it, but he has no time to ponder it now. 

“Get yourself together,” he growls to Jo as they continue running. She blinks, wiping a hand over her forehead, and then her eyes clear. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “I would never hurt Sam, you know that. It’s just—so strong.”

They round the corner and spot the door to Sam and Dean’s suite. Castiel’s heart pounds out of his chest when he sees the door wide open, revealing the small living area. His eyes try frantically to take in the scene in front of him.

The three invading alphas are none other than Lucifer, Raphael, and a terrifying alpha he barely knows: Azazel. They’re crowding around one of the inner bedroom doors, the one Castiel knows to be Sam’s. And to his utter surprise, standing against the door—in dusty work clothes while gripping a dirty shovel—is the estate’s gardener, Joshua. 

“Get back!” he shouts, swinging his shovel in a wide radius. The edge is sharp and catches Raphael on the cheek, drawing a line of blood down his face. All three alphas are looking worse for wear, with lips split and skin covered in bruises. Castiel realizes all this couldn’t have been Joshua alone, even armed with a shovel. Those marks look similar to the ones Dean left on the group of alphas who harassed him outside the movie theater months ago. That means…these alphas are not only trying to break down the door to rape a sixteen-year-old omega, they also had their filthy hands all over Dean while he was trying to defend his brother. 

Something inside Castiel snaps at the realization, an anger seeping through his bones so deep that his hands begin to shake. 

“How fucking dare you!” he snarls, grabbing the first alpha in his grasp—his own brother, it turns out. He grips the back of Lucifer’s collar, balls his hand into a fist, and strikes his face with fierce accuracy. Lucifer stumbles backwards against the coffee table, knocking it over as the legs begin to splinter and crack. Jo pushes Raphael against the opposite wall, and holds him forcefully—not moving, even when the man spits in her face. Joshua, momentarily distracted by all the commotion, doesn’t see Azazel coming as he lunges for the shovel. They begin wrestling for the handle, and Castiel waits for his opening before kicking Azazel angrily in the shins. The alpha stumbles backwards against the door, and beneath all the mayhem, Castiel can hear Sam let out a terrified whimper from inside his room. 

“Sam! It’s me—Castiel!” Cas shouts, watching Joshua recover his grip on the shovel and bring the flat blade against Azazel’s stomach. “Stay inside until I tell you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you!”

“My greedy little brother just wants to fuck both of the Winchester omegas, huh?” Lucifer says with a dark chuckle, and Castiel spins around to face him just as a vase is smashed over his temple. Castiel blinks in surprise as he falls to the ground, strangely thinking that Jimmy would be disappointed—they had loved that vase as kids, since it was thick and magnificent, and reminded them of their favorite movie, _Gladiator_. The strangest things come to your mind in times of crisis, he thinks. 

In the middle of Castiel’s daze, Lucifer straddles him and wraps his hands around Cas’ throat, squeezing with all his might. 

“Always got everything, didn’t you, brother? All the money, the looks. The goddamn estate. And now you’re wasting it away over some gold digger omega trash.” 

Castiel can’t gasp, can’t even choke—his head is spinning, his vision blurred. His chest begins to ache, and it feels as if a fire is creeping up in his veins as he fights for breath. His hands struggle, beating Lucifer’s chest and arms. 

“Did you know that he offered to let us fuck him? Your precious _Dean_? Guess you’re not so special after all, Cassie, ‘cause he went ass-up the minute it suited him. Too bad his baby brother was so tempting—I’d love to show your boy what a _real_ alpha fucks like.”

Castiel eyes begin to water. He can feel his eyelashes flutter, can feel the life leaving his body as his arms begin to go limp. Just as his consciousness begins to fade, his brother’s callous hands suddenly leave his throat. He gasps for air, coughing and choking. There’s blood trickling down his forehead, shards of glass from the vase still falling through his hair—but he barely notices as Gadreel grips Lucifer’s shirt with one hand, and punches him deftly with the other. His brother falls to the floor, mouth hanging open and eyes closed. 

“Is…he…?” Castiel can barely speak—his throat hurts too much.

“Just knocked out,” Gadreel tells him. Castiel stands to his feet shakily, watching as Joshua stands over Azazel’s limp form, the gardener leaned over his shovel. Thanks to being strangled, Castiel hadn’t caught much of Jo’s struggle with Raphael…but with Gadreel’s help, she holds the alpha’s arm tightly as Gadreel delivers another effective, knock-out punch. Raphael lands in a heap at Jo’s feet, and Castiel surveys the damage. 

The intruders are all passed out. For now. 

“Sam,” Castiel croaks, getting close to the door. “Sam, it’s okay, we got them. But don’t open the door until I tell you.” He pauses, waiting for a response, but hears none. “Sam? Can you let me know you’re okay?”

“I–I’m okay,” comes a quivering voice, and the sound breaks Castiel’s heart. He can tell Sam has been crying. “They never got in. They never touched me.”

“Thank god.” Castiel sighs in relief. “I’ll come check on you in a minute, okay? Just stay there.”

“Where’s Dean?” Sam asks, voice sounding stronger with a tinge of fear laced in. 

“He’s okay,” Castiel replies vaguely, though part of him wonders if that’s true. Whoever arrested him was willing to leave Sam alone here with three vicious alphas, so the officer is clearly no friend to omegas. 

Backing away from the door, Castiel feels like death warmed over. Joshua and Jo have both been punched in the face at least once, but they’re all standing upright. Gadreel—late to the fight and the most effective fighter among them—looks completely untouched. 

Which begs the question…

“Where the hell were you?” Castiel demands, glaring at the bodyguard and feeling another wave of wrath wash through his body. “It was your job to keep them safe!”

“I know.” Gadreel shuffles from foot to foot, looking down at his hands guiltily. “It was my fault they got in. Lucifer, he…” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his temple. “He bribed me. I’m not proud of it, but he said he only wanted to get inside to talk to you. Something about ‘hashing out your differences.’ Since I knew you were gone today, I figured they would go inside, see the house empty, and come back out. An easy two-hundred bucks that no one would ever know about.” 

Castiel raises his fist, a rush of hatred so strong that Gadreel flinches. But he lowers his hand slowly, eyes glowering, feeling them flash red with anger. “Your carelessness and lack of integrity almost got Sam and Dean _raped_. Do you understand that?”

Gadreel, at the very least, has the decency to look devastated. “The minute I heard the commotion, I came to help—”

“But none of this would’ve happened if you had done your damn job!” Castiel growls. 

“What can I do to fix this?” the beta asks desperately. 

Castiel releases a dark, mirthless chuckle that makes his ribs ache. 

“There’s nothing you can do—the damage is done, you greedy, stupid idiot. As of tomorrow, you are no longer my employee. But for tonight, if you don’t want me to sue you within an inch of your pitiful little life for endangering my family, you’ll do everything I say…no questions asked.”

Gadreel eyes go wide, the intimidating bodyguard seeming to shrink under Castiel’s stare. “Yes, sir. Anything you need.”

Castiel crosses his arms, trying to size him up. Deciding he seems to be telling the truth, at least about this, Cas bends over and begins to slip his hands into the pockets of Raphael, Lucifer, and Azazel. He comes back up with their cell phones and wallets, dropping them onto the couch without a second glance. Those can be burned in the fireplace for all he cares. 

“Good. Now, take these lowlifes to the basement and tie them up. If they wake up before I’m down there, you have my permission to scare the hell out of them.” 

A small gasp escapes Jo’s mouth. “Cas…shouldn’t we call the police?”

“The police are the ones who arrested Dean for defending his own brother from rapists!” Castiel snaps. “We don’t know who we can trust, who is an ally of my brother.” He shakes his head, a plan formulating quickly. “We have to take care of this ourselves. Jo, go check the security footage and see what you can pull from this afternoon. Joshua, can you call Missouri—”

“He already did,” comes a ragged voice from the doorway. Missouri and Ellen are standing shoulder to shoulder, out of the breath with matching looks of horror on their face. 

“What the hell happened here?” Ellen demands, then looks over at her daughter. “Joanna Beth! Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay, Mom,” Jo mumbles, falling into her mom’s tight embrace. 

“Castiel, you need first-aid. Maybe stitches—” Missouri begins, but Cas interrupts, his patience wearing thin. 

“We don’t have time! I have to check on Sam, and I need these alphas cleared out before we dare open that door,” he says urgently. “Gadreel, get them downstairs before they wake up. Jo, check the camera footage, _now_.” He looks over to Missouri and Ellen, who seem to be trying very hard to absorb this new information. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to explain. Joshua will have to fill you both in. Can someone call Alfie and get an update on Dean?”

After a moment of tense silence, Missouri asks in a quiet voice, “What happened to Dean?” 

“Arrested, we think,” Jo answers in a small voice, one Castiel prays Sam hasn’t heard. 

A sense of panicked foreboding gathers on the room as Jo walks out, Gadreel behind her, dragging Raphael’s limp body behind him. Missouri and Ellen begin clearing up the debris—the splintered wood of the coffee table, the shards of glass from the vase. Joshua and Castiel assist Gadreel in dragging the knocked-out alphas down the hallway, and then down the staircase, their heads knocking against the wood. Castiel hopes they each wake up with a painful headache and the fear of god inside of them, because Castiel is angry enough to crush their skulls with his bare hands.

With the alphas far away and secured, Ellen generously spritzes the suite with a spray to block the alphas’ scent. The last thing they need is the stench of angry, aroused alphas haunting Sam throughout the remainder of his heat. Finally, after about twenty minutes of preparing and cleaning and muttered conversations, Joshua and Missouri pull Castiel aside. 

“I found your briefcase in the front yard,” Joshua says, and Castiel takes the item with a guarded wariness. He slides his phone from the back pocket and taps on his phone screen…then his stomach pulmets through his body, guilt burning in the back of his throat. 

**Dean 10:02 AM** >> Uh bit of a 911 here Cas. Sam is going into heat. Call me.

 **Dean 10:23 AM** >> Kinda worried about Sam here, call me as soon as you can

 **Dean 3:26 PM** >> Could really use you right now Cas. I need some of those heat pain meds for Sam. Why aren’t you answering your phone? Are you ok?

Dean had been texting him all day, and made a handful of phone calls as well, begging him to come and help. But Castiel hadn’t had cell service all day, not until he left the city. His phone had been tucked inside his briefcase since leaving the meeting earlier today. The meeting where Roman had threatened him consequences…

The back of his throat burns. The pain is overwhelming as it occurs to Castiel that he had shouted at Gadreel that this was his fault—but no, this was _Castiel’s_ fault, from start to finish. And now Sam and Dean are bearing the brunt of his decisions. 

“I called Alfie,” Missouri says, and if he notices Castiel’s reaction to checking his phone, she doesn’t comment on it. “He said the cruiser went to the local police station, and a guy hauled Dean inside in handcuffs. I just called the station, and they said Officer Gordon Walker brought him in on charges of assault and battery. They’re booking him now.”

“Shit,” Castiel swears under his breath. “I need to talk to Sam, then the alphas downstairs, but we _have_ to get Dean out—”

“Let us worry about that. You can’t do everything, honey,” Missouri reminds him gently. “You just go and say something to comfort that boy, y’hear? He must be scared out of his mind.”

Castiel bites his lips, wanting to argue— _but Dean is my future mate and he’s in trouble!_ —but he knows Missouri is right. He nods, feeling his eyes begin to water for the millionth time today. What a disaster the day has become…an hour ago, he was buying Dean a promise ring. Now he has to comfort his younger brother from a terrifying rape attempt—an attempt Castiel’s actions undoubtedly instigated. 

“Keep me updated on Dean,” he begs, and they both nod and walk down the hallway. Then Castiel is left alone in a room that’s held such chaos, such pain and tragedy. It’s the same room where Dean and Sam play video games, where Sam buries himself in homework, where Dean and Castiel have cuddled and watched television together. How can one room hold so many memories—both good and bad? 

Taking a deep breath, he knocks tentatively on Sam’s bedroom door. “Sam, it’s Castiel. Can I come in?” When there’s no reply, he knocks again. Still—nothing. “Sam, if you want, I can call Charlie to come over? She’s a beta, and you might feel more comfortable talking with her?”

“No…no, sorry, I’m coming,” Sam says, his voice muffled as he rises from the bed. The lock clicks, the knob turns, and then Sam is standing in the crack of his bedroom door. His face is flushed, his hair is matted in the back, and his clothes are sweaty and clinging to his skin. There are fresh tear tracks running down his face. 

“You’re…you’re alone, right?”

“I’m alone,” Castiel confirms, coughing a little as his voice strains, then follows Sam inside. The scent of heat hits him fully then, as if he’s standing at a makeup counter and sampling a variety of pungent scents. But just like earlier, the smell only makes his inner-alpha want to protect, and he pulls Sam into a hug before he can think to ask permission. Just as he’s cursing himself for being so thoughtless, Sam relaxes against him, letting out a whimper and then a sob. 

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re safe now,” Castiel soothes, patting Sam comfortingly on the back. 

“I…I thought…” Sam cries, his whole body shaking. “I thought they were gonna get me. And then Dean… What did they do to Dean?”

His voice sounds so small, so afraid, that some of Castiel’s own tears begin to fall. 

“I don’t know,” he admits, “we haven’t reviewed the security footage yet. But Sam, I swear, they’ll never have the opportunity to touch you or Dean again.”

Sam cries harder, clutching the front of Castiel’s shirt. “See, that’s just it—I’m an omega, a weak and pitiful omega, so my whole life is going to be like this! Dean’s been dodging assholes like this for years, and I never understood how hard that was, not until…now.”

As an alpha, Castiel doesn’t feel totally equipped to handle this conversation. But Sam is his family now, and he’s not going to let Dean down. 

“I know, the treatment of omegas is awful and unfair and I hate it,” he says in a quiet voice. He puts a hand on each of Sam’s cheeks, holding him steady. “But Sam Winchester, you are not weak or pitiful, do you hear me? You are incredibly smart and brave, just like your brother. You’re going to be okay, I swear to you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, do you understand?”

Sam swallows, eyes glued to the floor—but he nods. 

“I know being an omega seems terrifying. Presenting in general is terrifying. But you’re going to get through this. And you get to be a part of the superior gender, in my opinion—you get to show just how strong you _truly_ are.”

To his surprise, Sam lets out a teary little chuckle. “Y’know, you’re as cheesy as Dean sometimes.”

Castiel manages a small smile, and opens his mouth to reply…when Sam doubles over, clutching his stomach. On instinct, Castiel swoops the young omega into his arms. Sam writhes as the cramps hit his stomach, moaning out in pain. Castiel deposits him back onto the bed, noticing how damp the sheets feel. He tries to think back over a decade ago, when Jimmy was experiencing his own heats. 

“I’m going to draw you a bath, okay? While you’re soaking, I’m going to change these,” Castiel says softly. He glances at the nightstand, full of empty plates and bottles, and adds, “Then you’re going to have more food and Gatorade. Do you have any pain meds?”

Sam shakes his head, fresh tears falling down his face as the pain overwhelms him. 

“Okay, okay, shhh, I’ll send someone out to get some.” He runs a hand over Sam’s clammy forehead, frowning with worry. Apart from his brother, he’s never seen an omega go through a heat before—for obvious reasons—but it looks to be one of the most painful experiences anyone could ever go through. It’s just another example of how omegas are actually much tougher than alphas, despite getting half the respect, Castiel thinks bitterly. 

“Cas?” Sam says in a small, wrecked voice. “What happened to your voice?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about me,” Castiel dismisses, internally wondering how long he’s going to sound hoarse and strangled. 

“Okay, but…I heard Jo say that…that Dean was arrested by Gordon Walker….”

Castiel grimaces. He never intended for Sam to know that until Dean was safely returned. “Yes, that seems to be the case. But Joshua and Missouri are down at the station right now, fighting to get him out.” Plus, Castiel intends to visit him the moment Sam is settled.

“Good, ‘cause you can’t leave him with Gordon…” Sam grinds his teeth as a new wave of agony apparently washes through him. “He’s a friend of my dad’s. He’s a bad guy, Cas, a bad alpha. You’ve gotta get Dean out.”

Castiel exhales, trying to keep the rage at a minimum so he doesn’t trigger Sam. He had sprayed his scent blockers this morning, of course, but he’s no doubt sweated most of them off during the fight.

“I know. We’re trying,” he says, trying to keep his voice even. “Now, let’s get you up… Yes, just like that…”

A moment later, as Sam sits under the spray of faucet and Castiel is stripping the linens, he can’t help but let his mind wander—imagining what sort of danger his beloved boyfriend must be in. 

_Dean…I’m so sorry. I should’ve been here. I should’ve been here to protect you. Both of you._

He allows more tears to fall from his eyes, but when Sam moans in pain from the other side of the bathroom door, he rubs his eyes angrily. _Stupid alpha_. He doesn’t have time to stew in regret, guilt, and shame. All he can do right now is help Sam, then deal with the alphas in the basement—by any means necessary. 

All while praying, over and over again in his head, that Dean will come home safely. 

***

“Turn to the left,” the rough voice orders, and Dean turns, trying to keep a straight face for his mugshot. “Face center,” the voice calls again, and Dean turns, unable to resist pouting his lips at the asshole taking his picture. He hears the alpha growl angrily but says nothing.

“When do I get my damn phone call?” he snaps, as Gordon comes around—gripping his bicep in a punishingly tight hold.

“Who you gonna call anyway, Winchester? That dad of yours won’t bail you out.” Gordon laughs, walking him down a narrow hallway in the precinct.

“It’s none of your business who I call, but I get my damn phone call.” Dean grits his teeth and tries not to wince in pain at the manhandling. With some of his adrenaline gone, he’s starting to feel all his aches and pains from his fight.

“Well it's after-hours now, boy, so you're gonna sit your pretty ass in our holding cells for the night. Maybe if I’m feeling generous, we can arrange that call in the morning,” Gordon hisses in his ear, shoving him into the back room where the holding cells are.

Dean looks up at the large and open barred room. Several men already in the cell perk up at Gordon and Dean’s entering. Dean freezes, body stiffening, taking in the sight of several drunk alphas and a few betas. It smells like rank alpha and alcohol—like home, back in Lawrence—and he stifles a hysterical laugh at the thought. Some of them are passed out on the small cots, but the others are growling through the bars, staring daggers at him and Gordon.

“I-isn’t there an omega holding area?” Dean asks quietly, eyeing up the men as they sniff the air like hungry dogs smelling a pot roast. Dean still must have Sam’s heat scent stuck to him, and clad only in a pair of jeans and no shirt, he feels like chum in the water.

“Yeah, normally we keep 'em separated, but those cells are under construction. Big strong badass like you can handle a couple alphas, can’t ya?” Gordon says with a mocking grin. Gordon uncuffs Dean’s hands and unlocks the door. “Alright, back up, let in your new bunkmate.” With a hard shove Dean stumbles into the room, hearing the door clink and lock behind him. 

He shivers at the cold of the room prickling his skin, stepping back and trying to size up his opponents. Three of them pose no current threat and are simply passed out—obviously picked up for drunk and disorderlies. 

The other two are eyeing him like a piece of meat.

“Hey there, pretty. What’s a sweet thing like you doin’ in here?” one of the alphas coos at him, with yellow teeth and breath that could nearly knock him over.

“Ever heard of a breath mint, buddy?” Dean snaps, backing himself toward the other side of the cell.

“Bet you taste real fresh, don’t you?” The other tall skinny guy smirks.

Dean’s ready when they lunge at him. Luckily, they’re both intoxicated enough that it only takes a few solid hits before they’re both cursing and crawling away from him. He pants, wiping the blood off his split lip, and growls at them. “You try to fucking touch me again and I will tear you apart.” He drops his voice in a deep, low, menacing snarl.

“Fuck, I thought he was an omega. Son of bitch hits like an alpha,” the skin guy whines, stumbling over to the opposite cell wall and sliding down to sit. The other yellow-toothed alpha glares at Dean, but moves to sit just a ways from his buddy.

Dean can barely stop the tremors in his body. Everything hurts, and he thinks he may have broken a bone in his hand. He sits down on the empty cot farthest from the other cellmates and pulls his knees to his chest. He doesn’t know how much longer he can keep this up. His body is exhausted, and he still feels sick with worry about his brother.

He wants to believe Castiel made it to Sam. It had only been a few minutes, and Sam was still behind a locked door. Dean can only imagine how scared Sam must be. He’s never needed Dean more than right now, and Dean can’t be there. He watches his cellmates warily, though they all seem to be mostly passed out now. It had taken a few hours for Gordon to put him through booking, and he didn’t think it was very late…but after the day he’s had, he’s exhausted. His stomach gives a protesting growl, but something tells him he isn’t getting anything for the rest of the night.

He curls up in the corner, trying to keep an eye on the others, but he feels his eyes get heavy. He dozes off, dreaming of warm summer sun and his alpha’s bright, happy smile. He wakes to something wet against his neck. He blinks open blurry eyes to one of the previously sleeping alphas licking at his neck. 

“The fuck!” he yells, kicking out and hitting the alpha hard in the gut. The guy goes sprawling across the floor with a yipe.

“Taste so sweet,” the alpha hums, licking his lips. He rubs at his gut and looks at Dean with fist balled-up before sauntering back to his cot.

By morning Dean has barely slept a wink. Fighting off the advances of his jail mates has taken every ounce of energy. Gordon did come in to yell at Dean that if his pal Novak showed his face in the precinct after-hours again, he’d throw his “Richie Rich ass” in jail too. It warmed Dean’s heart to know Cas had tried to come for him, even if it didn’t work. His eyes burn with the effort to keep them open, blinking down at his bruised and purpling skin. He wants Cas, he wants his brother, he wants to go home. He jumps when the door swings open, and Gordon waltzes into the room looking more rested then the fucker deserves to be.

“Hey there, sunshine. You got a good night's sleep, I hope.” Gordon grins at him, and Dean has never hated the man more. Too exhausted to reply, he just waits to see if Gordon came to gloat or what. “Alright princess, over to me. Hands out.”

Dean stiffens at the order, hairs standing on end. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

“You want your phone call, don’t you?” He watches as Gordon lifts his brow. Dean hesitates, then decides he doesn’t really have a choice as he moves his stiff body over toward the bars. He puts his hands out, and tries not to flinch as the alpha snaps on a pair of cuffs before opening the cell door. His sleeping jail mates grumble and cat-call him as Gordon leads him from the room. He feels momentary relief, even though he’s with Gordon. He knows the alpha won’t try anything in the precinct…right?

“One phone call, Winchester.” Gordon shoves him toward what looks like a pay phone on the wall, mumbling something about “pushy entitled alphas” pitching hissy fits. He can’t wait for Cas to sick his lawyers on this douchebag. Gordon surprisingly turns and walks a few steps away to talk to another officer.

With trembling hands Dean picks up the phone, a bit awkward with his hands cuffed, and he dials Castiel’s cell. He clutches the phone to his face, huddled against the wall as he listens to the ring.

“Hello?” his alpha’s worried voice comes through the line and Dean nearly bursts into tears at the sound of it. He stifles a sob, choking it down and sucking in a steadying breath. “Dean, is that you?”

“Heya Cas,” he manages to get out, his throat aching with unshed tears.

“Dean, sweetheart—are you alright? Oh god, I’ve been so worried.” Castiel’s voice sounds cracked and rough, like he’s been gargling gravel, and it worries Dean.

“Is Sam okay? Are you okay?” he asks, bracing himself for the reply. He doesn’t have the stomach to answer Castiel’s question just yet.

“He’s safe, they didn’t lay a hand on him I swear. He’s still in heat, but he's strong, Dean, just like his brother.” Dean can hear the truth in his words, and it calms him to know he at least managed to keep Sam safe.

“Good, that's good, Cas,” he replies, slumping against the wall. “Where were you?” he asks, his voice a bit smaller, trying not to sound as hurt as he is.

“There was a cell tower out in the city. I didn’t have reception until I got back to the house, so I never got your texts. Believe me, if I had I would have been at your side in a heartbeat.”

That explains why Cas had seemed to ghost him yesterday. He didn’t think he would have done it intentionally. He knows it's not Castiel’s fault, but he can hear the guilt in his alpha’s voice.

“Dean, I am doing everything in my power to get you out of there. I tried to come see you once I knew Sam was safe, but they wouldn’t let me in. I waited hours until they finally kicked me out. I’ve called my lawyer and they said the courts are closed until Monday, so I can’t get you out until after the weekend.” The sorrow and regret in Castiel’s voice is palpable. Still, Dean shivers at the idea of two more nights in this hell hole.

“Thats uh, that’s shitty news. That's Winchester luck for you,” he huffs, gripping the phone, white knuckle tight. “But it's not your fault, Cas...I miss you,” he whispers softly, glancing up and hoping Gordon won’t hear.

“Dean… I’m so sorry, I miss you so much—” Castiel’s voice cuts off, and Dean hears a muffled sound on the receiver. When his alpha speaks again, his voice is a bit more composed. “You just need to hang in there for me, and I will come get you. Are you hurt? Are they treating you okay?”

Dean hesitates—he doesn’t want Castiel to worry about him. At the same time, he wants him to understand just how badly he needs out of there. 

“Been better, Cas. I’m getting pretty tired. They have me in the alpha holding cell…some bullshit about the omega cells being under construction.”

There's a sharp snarl on the other end of the phone. “If anyone lays a hand on you, I will tear their throats out.” Castiel’s terrifying threat only makes Dean smile.

“Just get me out of here, okay, alpha? I don’t…I don’t know how much longer I’m gonna last in here,” he whispers, still watching Gordon’s turned back.

“I’m fixing this, I just need to make a few calls. I might not be able to get you out until Monday, but I can make damn sure they take you out of that cell.” Castiel has regained that confident, reassuring tone, and it does wonders to soothe Dean’s nerves.

“Did you take care of…of your brother and those assholes?” He shivers just at the thought of the alphas.

“They’re being handled.” Castiel’s voice sounds harsh and heated, and Dean believes him…at least, he wants to believe him. “I promise no matter what, they will never come near us again.” 

“Alright, Winchester—wrap it up!” Gordon calls over his shoulder.

“Damn it, I gotta go, Cas. Tell Sam I’m sorry I didn’t have more time to talk to him. Promise you’ll look after Sam and keep him safe?” He wishes he could have heard his brother’s voice, but he can only hope he will be home soon.

“I promise, the house is on lockdown. I won’t let anyone near him—you have my word.”

“Thanks, Cas. I trust you.” Dean smiles, knowing he does. “Love you,” he whispers even quieter. Gordon may not know about their issue with the contract, but he doesn’t need to give the man any more information than he already has. He knows Gordon must have heard his love declaration to Castiel in the car yesterday. He just hopes he doesn’t think anything of it or mention it to anyone.

“I love you, omega. Stay strong for me.”

Dean goes to reply just as Gordon’s finger yanks the phone from his hand, slamming it on the receiver.

“Alright, move your ass,” Gordon growls, pushing him down another hallway and in a direction away from the cells. He doesn’t say anything as Gordon shoves him into an interrogation room.

“What's going on?” Dean asks, confused as Gordon pushes him into the only chair, moving to cuff him to a bar on the steel table in front of him. He looks to see the table is bolted to the floor.

“You're just a popular one, aren’t you? Already have a visitor and you're barely here a day.” Gordon slaps Dean’s shoulder, throwing him a wink before he strides out of the room.

He wonders how Cas has gotten here so fast…he hadn’t heard a car running when they talked. And how has the visitation policy changed all of a sudden? He doesn’t have long to wonder, though, as the door swings open again and two alphas step into the room. Dean’s blood runs cold as he stares into those shark-like eyes.

“Hello there, Dean, long time no see.” Roman’s mouth twists in a victorious smile as Edgar, Roman’s right hand and muscle, closes the door behind them. 

Just when Dean didn’t think his luck could get any worse.

***

Castiel takes the steps down to the basement two at a time. He has a laptop tucked under his arm and Gadreel at his heels, following menacingly as they enter the dim room. Castiel always intended for him and Missouri to go through this old basement one day, to clear away his parents’ dusty boxes and make the space more useful and inviting. But now he’s relieved they never had the time—it turns out a dark, musty room is the perfect place for three despicable alphas to be held against their will.

It’s early Saturday morning, but you’d never be able to tell down here. Castiel likes imagining them locked down here, panicking and exhausted, thirsty and hungry. It’s not anywhere near the punishment they deserve, but it’s a start. 

Lucifer, Azazel, and Raphael are each a few feet apart, tied to metal chairs with thick rope. At some point during the night Gadreel taped their mouths shut, and if they had any trouble breathing, well… Castiel can’t find it within him to care. These men have done nothing but bring pain and torment to everyone Castiel cares most about in this world. 

That’s about to change. 

He drags an empty chair across the cement floor, letting the deep, unsettling scrape fill the silent room with tension. All three of the alphas are staring at him with wide eyes, but Castiel just regards them coolly before sitting down. Gadreel stands behind him, glowering at the alphas with a threatening stance.

“Good morning,” he begins, unable to keep the dryness from his voice. “I trust you slept well?” 

He cracks the laptop open, thinking about how Dean must’ve slept—poorly, or not at all, with all those alphas surrounding him like vultures. A spike of rage surges through him, but he tries to dampen it down. After his heartbreaking phone call with Dean moments ago, he’d called Crowley immediately, demanding he pull any strings necessary to get Dean a private cell. If Cas is unable to get Dean out while the courts are closed, and his attempts to see Dean face-to-face are continuously foiled, the least he can do is secure safe accommodations while they wait for Monday to come. 

“Oh, that’s right, you can’t answer,” Castiel continues evenly, clicking away on the laptop as the alphas watch him. “That’s because you thought it was a good idea to come into my home uninvited, act like psychopaths, and threaten to rape people I care about.”

He spins the laptop around, turns the volume up high, and finally and hits play on the security footage Jo pulled. He let’s it all play out, every sound: the grunts, the punches, the sound of men hitting the floor. But the worst is listening to all the derogatory insults they threw at Dean, someone so righteous and brave and good. _I’m thinking I should get a taste of the sweet pussy that made my brother lose his damn mind._ He steels himself, breathing in and out through his nose. Every plea Dean makes for his brother’s safety, every insult, before finally offering himself up in sacrifice… It breaks something inside him. _Maybe you’re finally learning that all you’re good for is a warm set of holes to fuck._

The first time Castiel watched it, he went upstairs, clutched Dean’s favorite AC/DC shirt that the alphas had torn off his back, and cried. 

Sitting here now, he doesn’t let the alphas even see him flinch. He won’t give them the satisfaction.

When his point has been made, he snaps the laptop shut and places it at his feet. 

“It seems you three have misunderstood me. Just because I don’t go about in public, threatening others and ignorantly declaring myself the superior gender, does not mean I’m not capable of doing terrible things to protect the ones I care about.” He lets that sink in for a moment, taking his time. “There are only a few things preventing me from taking care of you permanently, and inviting every omega you’ve ever assaulted to dance on your graves. Then, clearing out your bank accounts and giving those omegas copious amounts of money. I’d donate the rest to a nonprofit of my choice, of course. Perhaps one dedicated to omega rights.”

He slips his suit jacket off, sliding it onto the back of his chair. He hasn’t changed his clothes from the meeting yesterday, hasn’t slept, hasn’t thought about anything but Dean and Sam and the three alphas he wants to be rid of forever. 

“Luckily for you, I’ve been turning over a new leaf lately, and murder isn’t exactly a part of my moral code.” He unbuttons his collar and rolls up his sleeves. “But blackmail, coercion, extortion? Well, in my family…those are skills you acquired as a kid, sitting around the dinner table.” He glares openly at his brother. “Isn’t that right, Lucifer? It’s why you’re so good at being evil.”

He stands up and begins to pace. Then he goes to Gadreel, who slides a long hunting bowie knife into Castiel’s hand. He palms it casually, weighting the handle, and circles the alphas, making sure they can see the glint of lowlight reflecting off the blade. 

“So, what to do with you? You certainly don’t deserve to live. You’re some of the most despicable human beings I’ve met—all you’re capable of is destruction.” 

He runs the blade lightly over each of their cheeks, drawing blood. The alphas’ eyes are wide now, breathing heavy through their tape-covered mouths. 

“I think the only option, gentlemen, is for you to leave the city—the state. Move far, far away and never set foot on my property again. Do not so much as utter the name ‘Winchester,’ much less approach Sam or Dean.” He slides the blade against Azazel’s throat, holding his jaw steadily. “If I’m vacationing on a remote island and we come across each other, I expect you to pack your suitcase and book the first flight out.” He moves over to Raphael, the blade following. “If my name is attached to a business deal, you should refuse any offers that come your way. Our money will never mix ever again.”

He ends with Lucifer, the hatred building to a final crescendo, the knife slicing a small cut against his jugular. “And finally, if anyone asks you about your brother, Castiel, you say ‘I have no brother by that name.’” He squats low, eyes blazing as he bores into Lucifer’s line of vision. “Because I disown you, Lucifer Novak. You are no longer my family. You’re not even worthy of being my enemy. You mean nothing to me.”

He stands back to his feet. The alphas are in poor shape—bruised and ruffled from their fight yesterday with Dean, unfed and thirsty, now dripping with fresh blood. The darkest parts of Castiel revels in their misery, glad that Dean isn’t here to witness just how far he’s willing to go to protect their life together.

“If any of you don’t follow these instructions, well…there are few different outcomes. Some legal, some not-so-legal. One outcome: I send this footage to every non-corrupt law enforcement agent I can find, and you’re arrested for attempted rape. Another, the geniuses on my payroll break into your bank accounts and empty out every penny. The third…” He drags the knife through the zipper of Raphael’s trousers, not stopping until he’s touched skin. “I find you. Then I cut off these tiny, pitiful excuses for dicks that you think gives you the right to treat people like property.” Raphael is panting now, a muffled howl escaping from behind his gag, and Castiel sinks the knife deeper. “I don’t know any eunuchs who maintain their beloved ‘alpha’ status, but I imagine there’s a first time for everything.” 

He pulls the knife back, pleased to see he’s drawn blood. “Do you understand me?”

They shake their heads mutely and Castiel says, “Good. Now excuse me, I have much more pressing matters to attend to.” He turns to Gadreel, who looks every bit as formidable as ever, though even he looks a little nervous when Castiel places the bowie knife back in his palm. 

“Please see to it that they’re dropped off at home late this evening. And remind them that, if they’re not gone within twenty-four hours, the dick-cutting option remains my favorite of the three.”

Gadreel nods in understanding and Castiel walks swiftly toward the staircase. By the time he reaches the top step and reenters the main floor, his hands are shaking. He wishes, more than anything, that he could have his omega back in his arms. Dean always knows how to ground him, how to keep his temper in-check when Castiel begins to lose control. Without his boyfriend around, Castiel thinks he might not recognize himself. 

Two more days. That’s all that’s standing between him, Dean, and a joyful reunion. Thank goodness their separation is temporary. 

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Castiel shuffles toward Sam and Dean’s suite to check on the teenage omega. Ellen and Jo are sitting on the loveseat, absently watching the news. 

“How’s he doing?” Castiel asks in a low voice, looking at Sam’s closed bedroom door. 

“Good as can be expected,” Ellen says reasonably. 

“Sleeping now. But I think he finally…uh…” Jo drops her voice down to a whisper. “Broke out the toys, if ya know what I mean.”

Castiel fights the urge to grimace. He knows it’s a necessary activity for any omega in heat, but it’s still difficult to think about Sam as anything but a scared kid calling out for his older brother. 

“Hopefully they brought him some relief,” he says awkwardly. “What else should I do? Can I bring him anything?”

“I don’t think so, honey.” Ellen raises an eyebrow. “Sam and Dean are in difficult places right now, but your hands are tied. They’re strong boys, and they’ll push through on their own. The best thing you can do for them is get some rest and recuperate. They’re gonna need your support even more as the days pass.”

Castiel nods, seeing the wisdom in her words but wishing there was more to be done now. Couldn’t he suffer a heat in Sam’s stead? Or switch places and confine himself to a jail cell to prevent Dean from being in that terrible, dangerous place? 

“Go get some rest, Cas. The worst has passed,” Jo says kindly, and Castiel feels his eyes begin to water. He thanks them both, tells them to call him first thing if there are any updates on either brother, and heads to the West Wing. 

His bedroom feels too big and too empty without his omega, but he manages to strip his wrinkled layers, take a hot shower, and get a half-hour nap. His nightmares are vivid, though, full of fear and loathing and pain. He wakes up believing something is wrong with Dean—he can feel a burning in the back of his throat, bile rising to his mouth. He tries to call the police station for an update, asking about the private cell again, but the man on the other end explains that Dean is in the interrogation room. Castiel threatens again to go and see Dean in person—but after spending hours there the night before, he knows demanding to see Dean will only put Cas in danger of being held in a cell himself. More importantly, his presence will only cause Officer Walker to mistreat Dean more. 

“Please, just check on him,” Castiel begs, and the officer relents, promising to do so. He finally closes his eyes again and gets another half-hour of restless sleep. 

***

Dean’s blood runs cold and there is a sudden, terrible nauseating drop in his stomach at the sight of Roman’s predatory glare.

“What are you doing here?” Dean finally finds his voice as Roman stalks closer. Edgar just leans against the wall, looking bored as usual.

“Little birdy told me you had landed yourself here. I just came up to check on my future asset.” Roman smiles at him with mock concern, lifting a leg up to sit on the table in front of Dean, looming over him.

“I’m no asset of yours, Roman,” Dean snarls, yanking on his bound hands and cursing Gordon for leaving him so defenseless. How did they even get in here? 

“You're right there, Dean-o. I’m sure that alpha of yours is knotting that pretty little hole of yours, but I can’t prove it.” Roman’s voice takes on a slightly edged tone. “I’m normally a patient man, Dean. I like to play the long game. I know at some point you will both slip up, and I’ll get you _and_ the assets Castiel leveraged in our deal.”

Roman gets up, moving slowly to stand behind Dean. His heart races as he feels the alpha’s hands land softly on his bare shoulders. “Problem is, your alpha is costing me a lot of money. He seems to have it in his head that he can’t do business with me anymore, and that I simply cannot have.”

“Let me get my tiny violin. Are you done with your bad guy monologue, or what? You're putting me to sleep.” Dean laughs, trying not to flinch as the hands tighten their grip on him.

“You think you're funny, Winchester?” Roman sneers.

“I think I’m adorable,” Dean scoffs, with a cocky confidence he doesn’t feel.

“Oh, well now you're just flirting.” Roman laughs, making Dean feel like he might vomit. “I guess I’ll just get to the point then. Bottom line? You cost me a lucrative business partnership, and I don’t stand for some worthless little bottom feeder like you getting in my way.” Roman leans in close to Dean’s face now. He stiffens as the alpha sniffs at him. “Plus, if I can’t have you, neither can he.”

Dean wonders what on earth that means when Edgar moves from the door, walking behind him with a smirk on his face. Dean yanks at his chains and goes to yell for help when Edgar’s harsh hand slaps over his mouth, the other one sinking in his hair and yanking his head to the side. Dean tries to yell behind the hand but he can’t break free, his body still weak with dehydration and no sleep.

Sharp blinding pain burns his shoulder, and he lets out a muffled cry behind the hands holding him. Teeth sink into his flesh, gnawing and tearing at him right on the scent gland between his shoulder and lower neck. Dean’s vision whites out, his body burning, and he can’t believe this is happening. It feels like something is burning through his blood, setting his whole body aflame. This has to be a dream, a terrible dream, and if he just wakes up it will all be okay and Castiel will come for him. The sharp pain fades to a dull throb, and he sags in his chair. There's a strange whimpering sound, and… _why doesn’t someone shut that person up?_ He blinks his blurry eyes open and realizes he’s the one making that sound.

“There, there now little omega, don’t worry. Your alpha is here,” Roman’s shark-like voice cooes in his ear, a tongue licking over the wound. Hands rub gently at his shoulder in a mockery of comfort. There’s a snapping sound of a phone camera but it barely registers.

“My sweet little mate, my very own omega whore.” Roman’s hands card through his hair as he hangs his head in utter shock. Has it really all come down to this?

“I know that sorry excuse for an alpha still holds your contract, Dean, but he’ll never want you now. You’re used goods, bonded to me—his enemy. When he kicks your pretty little ass to the curb, you remember who really owns you, who ruined you. That will teach you, and that arrogant prick Novak, to mess with me.” Roman’s voice is soft as silk in Dean’s ear, but Dean is nothing but numb. Roman leans over and places a soft kiss to Dean’s head before both alphas leave the room, laughing to themselves. 

Dean’s body sags against the table, blood dripping down his chest. He can’t believe what happened. He floats, his body starting to shake against the cold metal table, but he can’t be bothered to care.

“Dean?” a strangely familiar voice calls to him, but he doesn’t have the strength to move. What's the point anymore?

“Oh my god. Are you alright?” Hands lift him up off the table and he lets out a low whimper. “What the fuck happened here? Who did this?” 

Dean shrinks back at the angry alpha’s growl. His mouth opens and closes but he can’t seem to form the words. 

“Shh, it's alright, just wait here.” Well, what the fuck else is he gonna do handcuffed to a table? When the door opens again some time later a familiar alpha strides into the room, his arms full. It's the man he danced with at the ball, he thinks his name was Nick. Guess it’s…Officer Nick.

“I don’t think you need a hospital,” Nick whispers, wiping at the bite wound on his neck. “Did those two guys I just saw leaving do this? There's no one signed in to the visitor log. We don’t allow visitors on weekends.” The man puts a piece of gauze over the wound as Dean drifts, struggling to stay conscious.

“Gonna give Gordon a piece of my mind later. Here, drink this.” Nick unchains his wrists and presses a bottle of water to his hands. He manages to drink a few gulps without puking it all back up. “I knew Gordon was dirty, but this is over the line. Leaving a prisoner alone with two civilians like that… What the fuck was he thinking? He shut the cameras off in here, but I might be able to get footage of the attackers on the hallway cameras. Can you identify them for me, Dean?”

Dean freezes. He’s mated to Roman now, which means he legally can’t testify against the man. He knows that much of the law. His own scent is souring, taking on the bitter taste of Roman with every pump of blood through his veins. 

Cas would kill Roman. He would kill the other alpha if he knew what he had done...and then what? He’d be locked up for life. His beautiful, over-protective alpha doesn’t need to go down for this.

“It doesn’t m-matter, Nick. He bit my mating gland. I can’t press charges. Please just…just drop it, please.”

Nick looks at him with a face full of pity, but gives him a nod in understanding. “Do you want me to call your boss for you? Mister Novak, right? He just called in, worried about you. I got an omega cell set up for you. No idea why Gordon didn’t put you in one last night.”

Dean feels the tears as they run down his face, wracked with sobs. “D-d-don’t!” he manages to choke out, “D-don’t call him, please. Don’t tell him what h-happened, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—”

“Hey, it’s alright, take it easy, I won’t tell anyone you don’t want me to. Here, I brought you a sweatshirt, it's from the lost and found.” Nick holds out the hooded sweatshirt for him and helps him shrug it on. He curls into himself, still feeling desperately cold everywhere but the mating bite that still feels like it’s on fire. He doesn’t think it should feel like that.

Roman was right, he ruined him. He doesn’t even know if a new mating bite would take now. He could never be with Cas the way he wanted…not that Cas had changed his mind about that, but still. In one moment, one bite, it was all taken away, and Dean knows what he has to do.

_I’m so sorry, Cas._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: canon typical violence, harassment, intimidation, derogatory behavior, non-consensual touching, non-nonsexual mating bite 
> 
> \--
> 
> We know, we know. We'll fix this, we promise. 
> 
> In fact, good news: we've decided to adjust our posting schedule for the time being and begin to post new chapters ASAP. We're working hard on the next one as we speak. It still takes a lot of time and editing to get these chapters ready (especially the 9,000 word chapters like this one! holy moly) so we can't promise more than a typical weekly post. However, what we do promise is that we're _trying_ to churn these chapters out to you guys quickly. 
> 
> Anyways, come and cry with us in the comments, yeah? <3


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still with us?  
> We know that chapter was rough, we wish we could have held all your hands through it. My coauthor and I have been writing literally around the clock so as not to make you guys wait too long for the next chapter. We are still working toward our happy ending that we do promise you, the boys just need to find their way there. Sending you all love and hugs.  
> CB & TCB

On Monday morning Castiel leans against the shiny SUV, feeling a little lighthearted—giddy even. 

Dean is being released from jail. 

Thanks to Crowley’s help and a little elbow grease, Castiel pulled some strings to get Dean seen in front of a judge at two o’clock today. The omega could have faced up to six months in a county jail, a possibility that set Castiel’s teeth on-edge. He was already convinced he’d have to share the video evidence from his security cameras to prove Dean’s innocence, which would untangle a whole mess—how much trouble could he get in for detaining and threatening intruders in his home? Truthfully, it didn’t matter. He’d be willing to do anything to secure Dean’s freedom. 

As luck would have it, though, such drastic measures hadn’t been necessary. The judge had seen that Dean was a first-time offender, issued a five-hundred-dollar fee, and that was that. 

Well…perhaps that was it. It seemed too early to tell what the full ramifications of this disastrous weekend would be. Dean hadn’t exactly seemed relieved by the judge’s ruling—he had barely met anyone’s eyes in the courtroom, even Castiel’s. 

“Don’t worry, sugar,” Missouri tells Castiel, squeezing his wrist gently. “He’ll be okay.”

Castiel nods, offering a weak smile. Dean has barely spoken a word to them. After the hearing, he’d been led back inside to retrieve his belongings. Not knowing what else to do, Castiel went back to wait by the car with the others—Missouri, Joshua, and Alfie. Ellen and Jo were still busy keeping guard over Sam, who had wanted desperately to come and see Dean’s hearing. Unfortunately the teenage omega still has another day or two of his heat to get through, but it’s waning away in intensity with each passing day. 

“He’s a tough one,” Joshua grumbles appreciatively. “Give ‘im a few days and he’ll be right as rain.”

As the minutes tick by, Castiel gets restless, wishing he could just hold his omega again. He decides to pay Dean’s legal fee online, giving the county clerk’s office the five-hundred-dollar sum as easy as blinking. There, he thinks. I did something useful. 

When he glances up from his phone, he spots him. Dean is wearing the same jeans he was arrested in on Friday, though he’s wearing a new sweatshirt with the hoodie pulled up. There are dark circles around his eyes, his lips look chapped, and he seems somehow thinner than before. 

“Oh, Dean,” Castiel sighs. He resists the urge to wrap the man up in his arms…but they’re in public, which isn’t a smart decision to make where their contract is concerned. Not to mention that, the closer Dean comes, the more Castiel is convinced something is very, very wrong. He’s purposely distancing himself from everyone, even Castiel. 

“Oh, honey, c’m’here.” Missouri pulls the omega into a tight hug, not having any of the reservations Castiel has streaming through his head. Sometimes being an overthinker can really have its drawbacks. “That was such a brave thing you did. I’m proud of you.”

“We all are,” Alfie adds, as Joshua nods in solidarity. Dean’s hands don’t move to grip Missouri’s back, his entire body remaining stiff. Finally, she pulls away, hooking a hand on his cheek. 

“Let’s get you home.” Joshua and Missouri begin to open the doors of the SUV, with Alfie siding open the driver’s door. Dean moves to climb in after Joshua, but Castiel puts a hand on his back, shepherding him backwards. Dean jerks away skittishly and Castiel drops his hand, feeling like he’s been burned. 

“I’m…I’m sorry,” he says hesitantly, remorse sinking into his stomach. “I just thought you would want to ride together…just us?” Dean blinks at him, looking uncertain. “I brought the Impala. Sam mentioned it might be a good idea.”

For the first time all day, some of the tension leaves Dean’s shoulders. “Yeah, uh…okay. Where’d you park her?”

Castiel leads the way, walking on the sidewalk as Dean follows. Cas’ mind races with what to do next—should he apologize? Ask Dean how he’s doing? Talk about something else entirely? 

When they reach the car, Dean slides a hand on the glossy black exterior, letting out a deep sigh and closing his eyes. When he opens his eyes he looks more clear-headed, and Castiel is very thankful that Sam suggested bringing the Impala along. Something about her presence seems to settle Dean in a way Castiel can’t right now. 

“Would you like to drive?” Castiel asks in an even voice. It’s not a great idea—Dean is clearly troubled, distracted, and sleep-deprived. But it’s only a few miles back to the manor, and Castiel doesn’t have it in him to deny Dean this simple pleasure. 

“It’s okay,” Dean says, voice sounding a little hoarse. When he doesn’t expand or say anything else, Castiel figures he’s driving after all. He unlocks the car and they slide into the leather bench interior. He turns the key in the ignition and pulls out slowly, racking his brain for topics of conversation. Finally, when they stop at a red light, he whispers, “I missed you, omega.”

Dean inhales a sharp breath and looks away, staring out the window. The silence stretches between them, and Castiel thinks Dean might not respond…but what feels like a lifetime later, Dean says in a wrecked voice, “I missed you, too.”

Castiel grips the steering wheel, breathing heavily. Deciding he needs to talk to Dean and he needs to talk to him _now,_ he pulls off into a service driveway about a mile from the estate. He cuts the engine and waits. The autumn afternoon sky looks a peculiar shade of beautiful, considering the somber mood hanging between them. Dean just stares straight ahead, hoodie pulled around his head. 

“Dean,” Castiel begins softly. “Dean…look at me.”

The omega turns obstinately, eyes trained on his lap. Eventually his gaze lifts, perhaps Dean finally deciding to give in, and a gradual sweep of eyes locks them together. There’s pain behind Dean’s eyes, a deep sense of forlorn that makes Castiel suppress a gasp. 

“Baby, what happened to you?” 

Dean shrugs. “Jail, Cas. Jail happened to me.”

Castiel bites his lip, thinking. He wants to mention that Dean sounded okay on Saturday morning, that he was holding onto his spirit and bravery. What must’ve happened between now and then to cause such a drastic change? The possibilities make Castiel’s head spin. 

“Who hurt you?” he demands. 

“No one,” Dean says unconvincingly. 

He leans in an inch closer to scent Dean, the gesture familiar, typically calming to them both. But he’s shocked to find blockers covering his omega’s natural cinnamon scent. 

“If no one hurt you, then why are you wearing blockers?” Castiel says, voice beginning to shake. Someone hurt Dean, maybe several someones, and the rage he feels now makes his heart pound in his chest. “I thought they gave you your own cell!”

“Cas—”

“I’ll sue them. No…I’ll bury them! I can’t believe they let something happen to you, Dean. I’m so sorry I couldn’t do more, that I couldn’t protect you from this. I tried calling you every few hours, but they would never let me talk to you directly anymore. Did you try calling me? Would they not put my messages through? It was torture, sweetheart, thinking you were locked away, alone and hurting, and I couldn’t do anything—”

Dean interrupts with a grunt, then snaps, “Well, so sorry _you_ were hurting.”

“What? No, I didn’t mean it like that… It’s just that, you hurting makes me hurt.” Castiel feels knocked off-balance, his stomach twisted in knots. “I’m sorry. This isn’t going at all like I planned.”

Dean scoffs, crossing his arms against his chest. “What’d you think—that I’d come out of jail all chipper—maybe do a little song and dance? Everything sucks, don’t you see that? I get attacked, Sam is nearly raped, and I have to empty my savings account to pay a goddamn fine.”

Castiel stares at the dashboard with sudden interest. With the mood Dean’s in, he knows admitting that he covered the fee may not be wise, but withholding the information would be worse. “Actually, you…don’t have to worry about that. It’s taken care of.”

“Wow…figures.” Dean chuckles darkly. “Thanks, I guess. I’ll pay you back.” 

“What?” Castiel’s forehead creases in surprise. “No, absolutely not—”

“No, you don’t get to tell me what to do, _alpha_.” His voice is suddenly all venom and fury and it shakes Castiel to his core. “I’ve had enough of that bullshit to last me a lifetime.” 

The back of Castiel’s throat burns, an ache in his chest spreading. _Is that what he is to Dean now—just another untrustworthy alpha?_

“What can I do to help? To make things better?” he asks in a quiet, even voice. 

It deflates some of the anger puffed up in Dean’s chest, and the omega eventually mumbles, “Nothing, okay? Nothing. It was shitty being in there but there’s nothing you can do. So, sorry if I ruined your grand plans or whatever, but I don’t want to fucking talk about it because it doesn’t matter. Got it?”

The heat in Dean’s eyes simmers white hot, full of rage and resentment, a look Castiel never thought he’d be on the receiving end of. But beneath all that, he sees his boyfriend’s emotions for what they truly are. Fear, heartache, a loss of control. He swallows a dry lump in his throat, turns the Impala’s engine back on, and says, “Got it.”

They don’t speak for the remainder of the drive home.

***

Later that night Castiel paces around the library, his phone angled on his shoulder. 

“And then he barely said two words through dinner,” he recounts miserably into the receiver. “Ellen even made his favorite—burgers and fries. He barely touched it.”

“Wow, this must be serious,” Gabriel says sardonically, and Castiel rolls his eyes impatiently. “Listen to yourself! Guy’s tired, he just got out of jail. You ever think—maybe he’s just not hungry?”

“No, that can’t be it,” Castiel insists. “He didn’t even touch his _pie_.” 

After a beat of silence, Gabriel sighs. “Well shit, you got me there. Even I know Dean Winchester not eating pie is basically a sign of the apocalypse.”

Castiel slides into an armchair, scrubbing a hand over his face, feeling dejected. “What am I supposed to do here? The harder I push, the more he lashes out. But I’m afraid if I don’t keep trying, he’s going to just…” _Disappear._

“Sounds like you just need to give him space, Cassie, okay? He’s been through a lot.”

Castiel closes his eyes, imagining that he’s sinking into quicksand. “He’s going to leave me, Gabriel. I can feel it.”

His brother’s scoff fills up the receiver. “Dean-o? No fucking way. He’s crazy about you! You two are sickeningly in love. He’s not gonna give that up for nothing.”

“Nothing?” Castiel repeats hollowly. “Did you forget the part where I promised to keep him and Sam safe, and then _didn’t_? How could he ever trust me again after all this?”

Gabriel inhales sharply. “None of this is your fault, little brother. It’s just a shitty situation that a bunch of fucked-up alphas caused.” He pauses, then asks in a quieter voice, “Where are they, by the way? Still tied up in your basement, you kinky little bastard?”

Castiel releases a mirthless chuckle. “No, they’ve been gone for two days now. Charlie’s tracking them, of course, but they’ve scattered—Daytona, Seattle, Scranton.” He runs a hand over the armchair, focusing on the fabric. “At least one thing went right.”

He hears a crack of hardwood behind him, and Castiel leans up in his chair, the lamp light barely illuminating Dean as he stands in the doorway. 

“Cas?” he says in an uncertain voice. 

“Gotta go,” Castiel says in a rush, hanging up and reminding himself to text Gabriel later and apologize for his abruptness. He stands up, hands rubbing absently on his trousers. “Yes, it’s me, Dean. Are you…” He lets the question dangle before saying, “I was going to ask if you’re okay, but that’s a stupid question, isn’t it?”

To his surprise, a small, wet chuckle leaves Dean’s lips. He must’ve showered and changed, since he’s wearing a loose pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. To Castiel’s dismay, he’s wearing a fresh spray of blockers. 

“Yeah, but it’s okay. I only got asked that about a million times at dinner.”

Castiel winces. “I’m sorry. I know being hounded by everyone can be…overwhelming.” 

Dean nods dimly, taking a step closer to the alpha. Castiel forces himself to relax, to not push anything, to only offer whatever comfort Dean needs from him.

“How was it—seeing Sam?” he asks, hoping it’ll be a neutral topic. To his dismay, tension returns to Dean’s shoulders. 

“Uh, it was fine,” he mumbles. He catches Castiel’s eye, holding suddenly firm as he says, “He told me what you did for him…how you took care of him.” He scratches the back of his neck, gaze shifting away. “I’ll never be able to pay you back for that, but I’m grateful.”

Castiel chances a small movement, a touch, and reaches for Dean’s hand. To his immense relief, the omega lets him entwine their fingers together. “You don’t owe me a thing, Dean. You and Sam are family, remember?”

Dean’s eyebrows knit together, a flash of anguish crossing his otherwise beautiful face. It terrifies Castiel. 

“Dean…” He slides a hand to his jaw, cupping his face, a thumb stroking his cheek. “I’d like to think I know you pretty well, maybe better than anyone. So if I ask you not to do anything rash, will you listen to me? I won’t pressure you to talk about it. I won’t pretend that things can ever be the same. I know I let you down. But please, I can’t…” His voice breaks and he clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. “I can’t lose you.”

“No, Cas, this has nothing to do with…” Dean begins, then stops, seeming to think better of it. Castiel isn’t sure if it’s just the glint of the lowlight, but Dean’s eyes start to water. “If I asked you to do something, would you do it?”

Castiel’s heart races, their eyes locked together like magnets. 

“Yes,” he whispers.

Dean exhales shakily. “Kiss me.” 

Castiel’s eyes widen, though he recovers from his surprise quickly, tucking his free hand around Dean’s back. He wets his lips, Dean’s eyes drawn to his mouth, and the alpha leans in slowly, slowly, slower still, pausing when there’s barely a centimeter of space between them, just waiting, wanting Dean to want it, to want him, to need him enough to stay. In the end, it’s Dean who closes the gap between them, an urgent press of lips that nearly knocks Castiel off his feet. Still, Castiel takes control of the kiss easily, and when he does, he kisses Dean reverently. Every brush feels magnified, every swipe of his tongue as desperate as a prayer. He worships Dean as their mouths lock together, slow and purposeful kisses giving way to something needier, more raw and vulnerable, and then Castiel can feel tears on his cheek and he wonders which of them is crying. He’s lost track of where his body stops and Dean’s begins—everything is tethered to this kiss, this moment, this library where they first admitted their feelings for each other in the candlelight. The longer they kiss, the more Castiel feels like his heart is breaking and he’s not sure why. 

Dean began the kiss, so it seems only fitting that it’s Dean who pulls away. 

“I should get some sleep,” he rumbles, lips puffy and wet. 

Castiel wants to beg him to sleep at his side, to let him wrap his arms around Dean and hold him tightly, even in their sleep. But he knows Dean doesn’t want that right now. Instead, he says, “Will you come to me, if you need me?”

Dean nods, wiping the corners of his eyes with the heel of his hand. Oh, Castiel thinks, so they were _his_ tears.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

Dean doesn’t turn around when he says, “Goodnight, Cas.”

***

Castiel wakes up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, heart racing. He’s had a terrible nightmare. Dean was back in jail and cornered by alphas, in excruciating pain as they surrounded him, shredded his clothes, and then began to— 

Castiel shudders, rubbing his eyes and reaching for the bedside lamp. It takes him a moment to recognize the folded piece of college-ruled paper propped up on the table, and he takes it blearily, reading it as if still stuck in a nightmare. He notices the smudges of ink, the evidence of Dean’s tears, and some of Castiel’s begin to drop onto the paper as he reads, again and again until he can barely see, until he knows nothing will ever be okay again. 

_Cas,_

_I’m sorry for all the shit I said to you earlier in the car. I was pissed off, but not at you. You didn’t deserve that…just like I don’t deserve you. Not really. I’m just some poor, messed-up omega who’s caused nothing but trouble for you since day fucking one. Turns out, you were right all along to stay away from omegas. So I’m gonna do the thing I should’ve done forever ago and leave. I know I still owe you eighteen more months of work to pay off my dad’s debt, but I promise I’ll pay you back one day, with interest._

_You know I hate talking about my feelings, so writing this letter is maybe the stupidest thing I’ve ever done for a lot of reasons. But you need to know that I never expected you—if you told me a year ago I’d be crying over leaving some alpha, I’d call you a liar. But you aren’t just some alpha, Cas. You are smart and kind and loyal and fierce. You can’t cook for shit. Sometimes you snore. You never get any of my pop-culture references. You treat Sam better than our own dad ever did. And an hour ago, you kissed me in the library like it was the only thing tethering you to earth, and knowing that I was about to leave you made me feel like I was dying inside. I love you. You are everything I wanted and nothing I deserved._

_Please believe me when I say hurting you is the last thing I ever wanted. But I have to do what’s right for you, and that’s getting away from me and all my bullshit. You’ll see that one day, when you’re settled down with someone nice and normal and uncomplicated. You deserve so much more than I can give you, alpha._

_I hope you see that one day._

_-Dean_

***

Dean winces at the overly sweet taste of one of Kevin’s energy drinks, but manages to finish it, tossing the bottle to the floor of the Impala. The road is empty, stretching out before him as street lights whizz by in a near hypnotic rhythm. He keeps his music off, instead focusing on the soft snoring of Sam tucked in a blanket in the backseat. He doesn’t have far to go, which is good since there’s simply no stopping till they get to their destination. He would never risk pulling over, not with Sam still in heat. With his luck, an alpha would scent them out before he could turn the ignition off.

Dean blinks hard, trying to rid his eyes of the burning pain. He can’t afford to start crying again, and part of him is shocked he has any tears left to give. Earlier, he’d soaked his first goodbye letter to Cas and had to try all over again. It hadn’t been perfect, but he hoped it was legible. His chest gives another aching _thump_ and he presses his hand to his sternum, willing the pain away. Everything hurts. Since he was bitten it feels like his whole body is rejecting itself, like his own blood is poisoning him somehow. He’s terrified it’s from his separation from Roman. No amount of pain would make him go anywhere near that man again.

_Anywhere near your alpha, your mate._

The words in his head bring up bile in his throat, and he chokes it down. He doesn’t know as much about mating bites as he should. He’d researched true mates, but those were pretty rare, and he now wishes he’d spent a little more time on the other kind of mating bonds.

His phone buzzes softly on the seat beside him, and he glances down to see Cas calling him. His hands tighten, white knuckling the steering wheel, but he keeps his eyes firmly on the road. It’s nearly two in the morning—he had hoped his absence wouldn’t be noticed till morning. He wonders if maybe Jo ratted him out.

When he made his escape, it had taken him nearly an hour to convince Sam to go with him. It took Dean pleading and begging, nearly in tears, till his stricken-looking brother had finally agreed. He was fairly certain Sam had never seen him cry, and hell, he could count on one hand how many times in his life he cried. Now he feels like waterworks-Winchester. He supposes losing his freedom, his family, his found safety…the man he loves…is enough to break even him. Packing what they could, Dean had raided the pantry—feeling a pang of guilt, but knowing he couldn’t stop for food, and there wouldn’t be any where they were going. Jo had caught him, though, as he loaded the Impala, shuffling an exhausted grumbling Sam into the backseat.

_“What are you doing out here? Where are you going?” Jo hisses at him._

_“Please Jo. I have to go, okay?” he pleads with her, fighting the exhaustion that pulls at him and pulling his sweatshirt up tight around his neck._

_“No way, Dean. You can’t just run away like this. Have you told Castiel?”_

_Hearing his name shatters Dean’s heart from shards to dust. “Jo, as my friend, I am begging you not to say anything. I left a note, okay? And I’ll let someone know when I get where I’m going.”_

_Jo scrutinizes him, obviously torn, and Dean seriously hopes he won’t have to just make a run for it. “He’s gonna kill me for this,” she whispers. “I can’t convince you to stay?”_

_He shakes his head. “My mind is made up, it's easier this way. I have to protect him, Jo. This is the only way I know how.”_

_“Protect from what?” Jo asks, but Dean can’t wait any longer and he slides into the driver’s seat._

_“Goodbye,” he whispers through the glass as he starts the engine and drives away, leaving a stunned looking Jo in his wake and tears rolling down his cheeks._

His phone buzzes again and again, till finally he glances down and sees that it’s a call from Bobby. Relief rushes over him as he scrambles to answer the phone.

“Bobby?”

“Who else do you think it is, idjit?” Bobby grumbles into the phone, his familiar growl settling Dean’s frayed nerves a bit. “Now, what’s up with this message you left me? You’re heading to Rufus’s cabin?”

Dean looks in the rearview mirror—Sam is still asleep, but he keeps his voice low. “Yeah, I was hoping to lay low there for a while. I just need somewhere safe for us.”

“You in danger? Where’s Sam?” Bobby’s voice sounds much more alert now.

“Not in danger, Bobby.” _At least, not anymore_. “Sam is passed out in the backseat. He—” Dean swallows, dropping his voice lower. “He presented, Bobby…he’s in the last few days of his heat.”

There's a deafening silence on the line, and for a second he thinks he may have lost the call when Bobby finally speaks. “That's a hard break, son. I always kinda hoped he wouldn’t have as hard a road as you. Guess you Winchesters never do things the easy way, do ya?”

Dean gives a bitter laugh. “Guess not.”

“So, why are you leaving those nice digs you had? Thought you said that alpha was treating you real well. Do I need to come down and lay a whoop ass on him?”

Dean gives a watery smile at the protective rumble. “‘Whoop ass’? Really, Bobby?” He shakes his head. “No, this isn’t about him. He’s been amazing, I just can’t stay there anymore. Things have changed.” He takes a deep breath and cringes at the pain in his chest again. “So, can I use the cabin? Is the key still by the wood pile?”

“This stinks more than a week old garbage can, son. Now…what aren’t you telling me?”

“Is the key still by the wood pile?” Dean asks again, not willing to utter a word of what happened. It doesn’t matter anymore anyway. There's nothing that can be done—he’s ruined, and now all he can focus on is making sure the same doesn’t happen to Sam.

“Goddamn it, Dean,” Bobby growls. Dean hears mumbling on the line, and curses like _pig-headed_ and _stubborn_. “It’s in the bottom of the birdhouse. I’ll call the emergency line and get the power turned on for you boys. I expect you to let me know the second you get there safe.”

“Yes sir,” Dean answers, a relieved slump to his shoulders. He’s just so tired.

“You know I’m here for you boys. You can always come here. I’m sure whatever’s wrong, we can figure it out together.”

Dean smiles, wishing that was true. “I’m tired, Bobby. Can we talk about it later?”

“Later… Don’t forget to text me.”

“I won’t. Thanks, Bobby.”

“Don’t thank me yet, boy. Think I’m just aiding you in making a big fat mistake.”

“Night,” Dean huffs out, turning off the phone. He looks at it to see several missed calls, voicemails, and even texts from Cas. He puts it down on the seat next to him and focuses on watching for the exit.

They reach the cabin, which is thankfully tucked far up into the forest and away from any neighbors. He cuts the engine off and stands, stretching his sore muscles. He winces, thinking he has a few bruised ribs too.

“Come on, Sammy, let's get you to bed.” Dean reaches into the car and pulls his limp, grumbling little brother into his arms. Once he’s steady on his feet, Sam walks toward the cabin, blanket pulled around him with a little shiver. Dean grabs the key and opens the door. The stale but familiar scent of the cabin greets him, and he’s relieved when he hits the switch and the lights come on. _Thanks Bobby._

He ushers Sam into the back bedroom with the two twins, and gets Sam settled on the thankfully clean sheets. Not as nice as the ones at Castiel’s, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“Dean?” Sam whimpers, curling on his side.

“Shh, you’re safe, okay? I’m right here, and not going anywhere. Just get some sleep.” He leans over and kisses the top of his head, hoping Sam is too out of it to remember.

The exhaustion of his heat pulls Sam under quickly, and Dean only watches for another minute before he goes to unload the car. He puts the groceries away, and tosses their duffles into each of their rooms. He does a loop around the cabin, checking that all the windows are locked and secure before he finally goes inside, locking the door tight behind him.

He limps a little now toward his own bed, too tired to even take his clothes off. He burrows under the covers, pulling the phone from his pocket. He stares at the voicemails, wondering if he should listen or not. His fingers decide for him and press play on the first one, Castiel’s rough scared voice in his ears.

_“Dean, I read your note. Please come home, Dean, please. Whatever happened, I don’t care, it doesn’t change how I feel. I still want you, I will always want you. Just come home to me. Be mine again, please—”_

Dean clicks the message off, unable to stand another second of it. He deletes it, along with all the others. _He can’t be his._ God, it's all he wants in this world…to be Castiel’s. But he can’t give that to him anymore. He’s just a dirty, used-up, penniless omega. Castiel dodged a bullet with Dean leaving, really. He sends a quick text to Cas.

 **Dean 3:13am >> **Sam and I are safe. Please don’t worry.

He swipes at a stray tear, because apparently he’s a faucet now, and clicks to see a text from an unknown number. He opens it to see a picture with no message. In the photo, Roman is smiling up at the camera, mouth bloody, with Dean slumped over in the background. His own face is red with tears, and the bite mark is just starting to drip blood down his collarbone. 

Dean barely makes it to the bathroom before he’s vomiting what little food he’s managed to eat. He heaves and heaves, his body wracked with disgust. Dragging himself back to his bed, he throws the phone across the room before crawling into a tight ball and rocking himself to sleep.

***

“Come on, Dean, just tell me what the hell happened?” Sam sticks his hands on his hips and Dean groans, having had this argument with him several times already.

Dean stirs the pasta in the pot and thinks he may have to make a run for food soon. They’ve spent nearly a week in the cabin already. “What part of ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ do you not understand?”

“That's not good enough, Dean. My…my heat is over, and we are perfectly safe. Can we please just go home now?” Sam looks at him questioningly. Dean grips the counter, fighting another wave of vertigo. He can’t sleep and can hardly keep anything down. It feels like he’s withering away. 

“I need time, Sam, time to figure out what our next move is…alright?” He lifts the pot of boiling pasta, arms shaking, and nearly drops it. Luckily Sam swoops in to help, grabbing Dean’s hands and steadying him. “Thanks,” he mumbles. Can’t even drain pasta on his own.

“You’re sick, Dean. And so help me—if you try and say you're fine, I will punch you in the jaw,” Sam growls, and Dean almost smiles to see the fierceness in his brother's eyes.

“You're right, I am feeling a little under the weather. In fact, I’m going to a doctor tomorrow morning, okay?” This week, he had made a few calls to find a free omega clinic he could go to. He needs to know how bad the bite is, if he’s really dying over it. But he doesn’t want to scare Sam. He may have given up hope for himself, but his brother still needs him around, now more than ever. He just needs to know how far he’ll have to go to do that.

“That's a start. Your clothes are hanging off you, man,” Sam grumbles, taking over straining the pasta and adding in the sauce.

Dean flops on the nearest chair before his legs give out. The bite wound gives a now familiar burning throb, and he resists putting his hand over it. He watches as Sam serves them both up pasta, knowing he can’t finish a whole bowl.

“Cas keeps asking about you,” Sam mutters as he stirs his food.

Dean flinches at the name, the familiar ache in his chest and longing for the man who should have been his alpha. Still, it warms him to know Cas still cares about Sam, that he’s checking up on him. He hates the idea of Sam losing Castiel as a mentor and as family, just because Dean can’t have him anymore. Cas is a better brother than he is anyway… Maybe he would have been better off with Cas.

“I’ve told him I’m alright, Sam. What else can I do?” Dean grumbles, feeling guilt wash over him in waves. His gut keeps telling him that Cas is hurting—that bone deep mantra of _hurtbadwrong hurtbadwrong_ won’t go away. He had texted Cas, more to make sure he was alright than anything. Cas had replied that he was fine, but missing Dean, and that he wanted him home. They had exchanged a few stilted texts since then, a thin thread to his past life. He knows he can’t keep doing that…stringing Cas along with no hope of them being together.

“I wish you would just talk to me.” 

Sam breaks Dean from his thoughts, and he blinks up at his brother. He can see the toll everything is taking on him as well. Sam is looking thin from his heat, and has bags under his eyes. Dean needs to get his head on straight and take better care of his brother.

“Hey, I’m talking, okay? Just not about that,” he tries to reassure Sam.

“What are we gonna do about school? It starts in a week.” Sam peeks up at him through those overly long locks. Dean can tell he’s trying to hide his nerves about it. He doesn’t blame Sam—the idea of facing other people now that he’s omega is daunting.

“I’ll figure it out, I promise. Just trust me.” Dean watches as his brother shakes his head and returns to eating. He can’t imagine letting Sam go to school unprotected. He had been lucky he had Benny in high school to watch his back. Dean likes Madison, but he doesn’t think she would be any help against a bunch of horny alpha teenagers. He desperately wants to talk to Cas about it. The alpha always seems to know what to do.

He has one angry, snarling drunk voicemail from his father that he’s hidden from Sam. If John took it bad when Dean presented omega, he’s taking it worse with Sam, his last hope for an alpha son. Dean figures Gordon must have spilled the beans on them. He reminds himself to kill that fucker next time he sees him. He needs to find out if John filed the omega paperwork on Sam. He has to find a way to get ownership of that contract, but other than groveling to his father he doesn’t know how to do that.

They finish dinner in silence, and Dean drags his aching body to bed. He stares at his phone, wishing he hadn’t deleted Castiel’s messages. He just wants to hear his alpha’s voice. Well, not _his_ alpha anymore. He thought maybe the mating bond would kill some of his desire for Castiel, but it still burns within him…a white hot yearning for the man.

***

Dean sits in the waiting room, fidgeting with his sweatshirt. Sam is already in the back getting checked out, which Dean had insisted on. He also wanted to make sure Sam had some birth control, just to be safe. That discussion had left both Winchester brothers red-faced and shuffling back to their own rooms.

“Winchester, Dean?” a nurse calls out, and Dean pushes out of his seat, letting the dizzy feeling stop before following her to a back room. Dean hates doctors and can’t remember the last time he saw one. The nurse walks him to a chair to get some blood drawn before leading him to a back room.

“Here, hun, just down to your underwear. And put on this johnny for me.” The nurse hands him a hospital gown and sends him into the standard examining room. He feels his skin itch at the idea of stripping down, but he can suck it up. Plus, they never allow alphas into the omega clinic. Once changed, he shakily lifts himself onto the paper covered examine table, staring down at his knees.

A knock at the door makes him jump, and he curses at himself. “Come in.”

“Hello,” greets a petite woman in a white coat, walking in with a warm smile. Her short brown hair frames her face, and Dean thinks he probably would have hit on a girl like this in a past life. “Are you Dean?” 

“Yeah, that's me,” he says with a shrugs.

“I’m Doctor Tessa Green, but you can call me Tessa.” Her smile is warm and welcoming, and her mild beta scent soothes his frayed nerves. “Do you mind if I take some vitals?”

Dean nods his consent and she begins taking his blood pressure and heart rate. “May I listen to your chest? I will need you to drop the gown down around your waist.”

He nods, though he feels his heart rate spike at being exposed like this. She’s going to see the bite…she’s going to know he’s tainted. He bites hard on his cheek, closing his eyes while he feels her stethoscope move, listening to his heart. He’s surprised it's not jumping out of his chest at her like some cartoon character.

“So, what brings you in today, Dean?” Tessa grabs a rolling stool and sits in front of him. He’s thankful she isn’t just staring at a clipboard.

“Uh, well. I was bit.” He licks his lips, steadying himself. “A mating bite.”

“How long ago did this happen?” She smiles reassuringly again.

“About a week ago…just over a week,” he says, instinctively putting his hand over the bandage.

“Was the mating bite consensual?” she asks, without a trace of judgment in her voice.

“No ma’am.” He looks at her and can tell she’s waiting for him to elaborate. He needs to put his big boy pants on. God, he wishes Castiel were with him. “I was seeing another alpha at the time, him and I were… I was thinking we might be true mates, actually. I did some reading on it.” He wipes at the sweat on his brow and fights another wave of nausea. “But another alpha got the jump on me and bit me, on my mating gland.”

Tessa nods and begins to approach him. “May I inspect the wound?”

He nods again, and tries not to flinch when she pulls back the bandage. He can barely stand to look at the teeth marks marring his skin when he looks in the mirror. Red and angry reminders of that day. “I’m going to clean this and redress it for you. Can you tell me any other symptoms you’ve been experiencing?”

“Um, where do I even start.” He huffs, looking down at his ribs and slim hips. “I can barely keep anything down. I can’t sleep. The bite—it burns, like all the time. Stomach hurts. Hell, it just feels like everything aches lately, and I keep getting these dizzy spells.” He bites his lower lip a moment before lowering his voice, “Am I really bound to that alpha, like…forever? Is it killing me, doc?” Dread at the thought that she might tell him to return to Roman nearly overwhelms him.

Tessa grips his shoulder then with a comforting squeeze. “You can pull your gown back up, Dean, and we can have a talk.” 

He sighs, complying. Nothing ever good started with _we need to talk_.

“First of all, I am so sorry that was done to you, Dean. I hope you understand that it was wrong and that it was not your fault.” Dean frowns, not really sure he believes that. “You're suffering from two separate problems right now. The first is a rejected mating bite. Often with non-consensual mating bites, the body will try and reject the blood bond. I am gonna go out on a limb here, but I am fairly certain you were already scent-bonded to your other alpha?” Dean nods in confirmation. “Well, that would definitely make your body fight the bond. Granted, it's not easy for a system to override that blood bond, which is causing some of the lethargy and burning sensation you’re experiencing. If the alpha wanted to truly solidify the bond, he would have had to mate you and keep you long enough to force the bond to hold. Have you seen this alpha since the attack?”

“Uh, no…I kinda just grabbed my brother and took off when it happened.” Dean shrugs.

“That's good, I’m glad you were able to get yourself somewhere safe. Now, do you want the good news?” She smiles at him, and he can’t help but perk up at that.

“Hell fucking yes,” he blurts out, making her chuckle.

“The blood bond will eventually fade on its own, over the next few months. It takes time for your scent to return to normal and for your body to regain its strength, but the bond is not permanent. You will, however, retain the scar. There are some cosmetic procedures to remove the scarring, but they often damage the scent gland and can result in an inability to mate again.”

“Mate _again_? Wait, you mean I could still be mated? To someone other than that asshole?” He can hardly believe it's true.

“Yes, you most certainly can. The non-consensual bite was not from your true mate, so it doesn’t have the same hold that kind of bite would have.”

Dean smiles for the first time in so long. He might still be able to have Cas, he could still have him… if Cas wanted to be mated, which he’s said repeatedly he doesn’t. He slumps a little at the thought. Cas still may not want him once he knows what happened, mated or not.

“You said I had two problems?”

“Yes, and this may be a delicate question, Dean, but did your alpha reject you when he found out about the bite?”

Dean flinches back at that, feeling indignation on Castiel’s behalf. He then feels a little foolish, since he’d just had the same worry that Cas would do just that. “Uh, no, he didn’t reject me because he doesn’t know. I took off right after it happened, and I couldn’t… I didn’t know how to tell him it was over.”

“Well, that is your second big issue here, Dean. Your blood pressure is through the roof, your heart rate is elevated. Your blood work shows anemia and multiple vitamin deficiencies. Based on your vitals and symptoms, you are suffering from rejection sickness.”

Dean feels the bottom drop out from underneath him. All he can think about is Jimmy…that exact same thing had happened to him and it had killed him. “Does that mean I need to go back to the guy that did this?” he growls out, pointing at his bite wound and fighting back tears.

“Dean, your rejection sickness is from separation from your true mate. The one who you are scent bonded to.” Tessa shakes her head. “Since you weren’t fully blood bonded to that alpha, the risk of it killing you is greatly diminished. I can tell you right now though, Dean, that your body is under a lot of strain, and this could do permanent damage to you. I think if you weren’t dealing with the bite rejection and the mate separation at the same time, it would be manageable. As it is, I am very concerned for the long-term effects.”

“Does that mean my true mate could be sick too?” The very idea makes him shiver.

“He would almost certainly be experiencing the same symptoms as you are—body aches, loss of appetite. It could be damaging to his system as well.” Tessa looks at him with soft, but serious eyes.

Dean drops his head in his hands. How could he still be fucking up so badly? All he wants to do is save Cas from all his fucked-up shit, and now he’s hurting the poor guy. Dean had just bulldozed his way into his alpha’s life and torn it all up. He’s fucking cursed, that’s what he is. Pain and illness for himself he could handle, but knowing that Cas might be in pain…that feels like someone is driving a stake through his heart.

He rubs his hands over his face, trying to take it all in. “What can I do to make it better?”

“Well, there are no guarantees with any of this, unfortunately. Everyone is different, and I know people hate to hear that but it's true. I am going to prescribe you some medication to help settle your stomach, and vitamins to take along with pain killers. This should help you keep some food down and regain some strength. In the meantime, you should rest as much as possible. While the symptoms of the blood bond will continue to get easier over time, you should expect the mate separation symptoms could get worse.”

He nods, wondering how he is gonna rest when he needs to figure out how to get a job and pay Castiel back.

“Reuniting with your true mate alpha would certainly alleviate many of these symptoms, Dean, but I want you to understand something. You have a choice here—if you don’t ever return to either of them, I can still help you get through this. I need to know you understand that. If you're in need of any safe haven resources, I can make sure you have a safe place to go.”

He feels a certain relief knowing that, while it might be a hard road, he could go it alone. Question is…does he have to?

“I have a lot to think about. I don’t even know if he would want me once he knows. Plus, the guy might do something stupid and really fuck things up for himself.” He knows how protective Cas can be, his mind flashing back to his alpha tearing into those guys at the movie theater. If he knew Roman had pinned him down and forced a mating bite on him, there was no telling how Cas would react. While his inner omega purred at the thought, the more reasonable side of him didn’t want Castiel to end up in jail over him.

“Well, wouldn’t you rather know once and for all how he feels about it? As long as you don’t think he’s a danger to you, my suggestion is always to talk it out.” She pats him on the knee and then pulls out a prescription pad.

He thanks her profusely, distracted with his thoughts full of Castiel as he gets dressed and meets Sam in the waiting room. His brother is unusually quiet, and Dean figures he got an earful about omega biology from his doctor’s visit. He fills their prescriptions and makes the drive back up the windy mountain toward the cabin.

He wants to sleep for the next year when he feels his phone ring and sees it’s Bobby calling.

“Hey Bobby. Can I call you back later? I’m pretty tired.” He stifles a yawn, hoping the old beta will let him be. Pulling in front of the cabin, he shifts the car into park as he and Sam get out and stretch their stiff limbs.

“Son, I’m sorry to have to be one to tell you this… Your father was in a car accident last night. He died this morning.”

Dean freezes as the words slowly shift through his brain and the reality of what they mean sinks in. John is dead, his dad is gone… He can’t really believe it. He knows one thing for sure… 

Everything is about to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some of you will be celebrating that ending. We'll be in the comments if you need us for virtual hugs <3


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello, loves, and welcome to another chapter! Today marks the longest single chapter we've uploaded EVER, the word count coming in around 13.5k. So grab some tea or wine and settle in, because it's about to be a wild ride.
> 
> **Content warning at the chapter's end!**

Castiel leans further into his pillow, eyes firmly shut against the encroaching sunlight. He should’ve gotten up hours ago. Today’s Thursday—or is it Friday?—and he was supposed to have a phone call with a potential client this morning. Missouri had almost certainly cancelled that, though, since she’s been cancelling all of his work appointments for the past week. 

One whole week. Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours without seeing his omega. 

It has been, without a doubt, the most miserable time in Castiel’s life.

He tries to sit up, to reach for the glass of stale water he’d retrieved late last night. Despite lying in bed for the majority of the week, he hasn’t slept well at all. His body aches terribly with a constant sense of muscle soreness that he’s only ever experienced with the flu. Logically, he knows lying around is only going to make him feel worse, but he can’t find the energy to do anything else. 

Instead, he just lies in a bed that seems much too big now, inhaling Dean’s faded scent and trying not to cry. For the first few days of their separation, that’s all he did—he went to Dean and Sam’s empty suite and cried; he went to his too-big bed and cried; he went into the kitchen and talked to Jo, and they both cried when she confessed she had seen Dean that night.

“He said he left because he had to protect you,” she’d told him in a whisper. “He seemed so convinced of that. I didn’t know what to do, Cas, I’m so sorry.”

Castiel had no idea what Dean had been trying to protect him from, and the lack of information has been driving him mad. To say he’s been on an emotional rollercoaster lately is putting it mildly. In all his sadness and despair, he’s also suppressed the urge to be irritated with Jo, since a part of him wants to ask why she hadn’t alerted him immediately of Dean’s sudden departure. But in the end, he knows it wouldn’t have changed anything. Dean wasn’t a prisoner here—even with the contract still hanging between them, Castiel would never force Dean to be somewhere he didn’t want to be. It seems Dean doesn’t want to live here anymore, doesn’t want to work with Castiel, doesn’t want to be with Castiel…

A fresh wave of anguish overpowers him, and he turns over in bed. On his dresser, he can see a small, velvet jewelry box placed there. Dean’s promise ring, finally sized by the jeweler and retrieved by Alfie just yesterday. The box mocks him, reminding him of a time when he felt nothing but secure in his relationship with Dean. Now they’ve only exchanged a few texts and nothing more. Castiel has no idea if this separation is temporary or permanent, but the more days that pass, the more he fears this breakup is going to take hold. At this point, he’s not sure he can live without Dean at his side. 

A knock on his door stirs him from his thoughts, and he grunts grumpily, allowing the visitor to enter. Gabriel is carrying a tray stacked high with breakfast foods—the pile of bacon is only rivaled by the stack of blueberry pancakes—and even though Ellen has made all his brunch-time favorites, the thought of eating anything makes his stomach turn. 

“Rise and shine, Cassie!” Gabriel says cheerfully, sliding the tray onto his bedside table. Castiel doesn’t say anything in response, just gives his brother a slight nod of recognition he hopes also serves as a “thank you.” Gabriel and his girlfriend, Kali, had flown out from Las Vegas and have been staying here for two days. Castiel isn’t sure which of his staff called Gabe in for backup—likely Ellen or Missouri, if he had to guess—but his beta of a brother has been hovering around in the most irritatingly chipper way. 

“Good morning,” Gabriel chirps, as if sensing Castiel’s thoughts. “What’s on the agenda today for my successful, badass, swoon-worthy baby bro?”

Castiel glares at him, but reaches for the mug of black coffee on the tray. “Don’t call me ‘swoon-worthy,’” he says, taking a long sip. It burns his tongue and he finds he doesn’t care. What could possibly hurt him more than he’s already been hurt? “It’s creepy.”

“Ah, there’s that dry and witty humor I’ve grown to love and loathe,” Gabriel comments happily. “Go on, eat your breakfast.”

“Not hungry,” Castiel complains, for perhaps the hundredth time this week. 

Gabriel sighs—again, for the hundredth time this week. “If you eat something, I’ll tell you a bit of news.” 

Castiel just shrugs—there’s nothing going on in the real world that feels as devastating as the hole Dean’s left inside of him. 

But then Gabriel adds, “It involves Dean.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“Nu-huh. Bacon, _then_ answers, buddy.” 

Castiel growls in frustration and snatches two pieces of bacon, chewing them aggressively. They taste greasy and cold and it nearly pains him to swallow, but he does, because he needs to hear an update on Dean...even if it is secondhand gossip. 

“Good job,” Gabriel praises, a little condescendingly, but Castiel endures it and takes a bite of his pancakes. His brother means well, and has taken off work indefinitely to help Cas go through his life-altering situation. Castiel isn’t naive—he knows he must have rejection sickness from his omega’s sudden departure. When he thinks about how Dean is going through the same thing that killed his brother, it makes the back of Castiel’s throat burn and any trace of food empty itself from his stomach. He can’t believe he was reckless enough to become so bonded to Dean, that he would jeopardize his boyfriend’s health. Of course he had never expected Dean to leave, and even in his worst nightmares, he never anticipated Dean would leave by _choice_. But here he is, sick and rejected and miserable. 

Why wouldn’t Dean just _talk_ to him? And why couldn’t he tell Castiel what he’s trying to protect him from? 

“There,” Castiel announces after he’s eaten one whole pancake, his fork clinking against the plate. “I ate. Now tell me what you know.”

“All business these days, huh, Cassie?” Gabriel complains, though he gives a small smile. “But okay, fine. This morning I had breakfast with your staff—who I’m growing fond of, by the way—and Joshua was reading the paper. He noticed something unsettling in the obituaries.”

Castiel holds a breath in. How could the obituaries have anything to do with Dean? Unless...?

He lunges at his brother, wrapping a fist around Gabriel’s t-shirt. “Dean—he’s not—?”

“Oh, god, no. You kidding? The way you’re handling things now, pretty sure I’d have to tell you _that_ news in a psych ward.”

Castiel lets out an impatient huff. “Then who’s dead, Gabriel?”

“His dad, apparently,” Gabriel says matter-of-factly. “John Winchester.” 

Castiel exhales a small gasp, eyes wide, leaning against the pillows. “How?”

“Newspaper didn’t say, but Charlie did a little digging—DUI. Seems he had a bit of a problem with the bottle.”

“That’s an understatement,” Castiel mumbles. He grimaces, thinking back to everything he knows about John Winchester. The first time they met, he had so ruthlessly been willing to sell Dean’s contract to Dick Roman. The debt Dean was settling was a substantial bill that held their family home and business as collateral, while John continued to drink away his main source of income. After that terrible first impression, there had been the time Castiel had seen their home in Lawrence, and John had entered in a drunken stupor. His words to Dean had been cruel and harsh and scathing, and once he finished spewing hate, he had knocked Dean to this ground with his fist. 

Castiel felt nothing but relief that John Winchester was dead. 

“He was an awful man. He’s the one who sold Dean’s contract and almost handed him over to Roman,” he mumbles to his brother. John can’t hurt Sam and Dean anymore, which is all he cares about… But what about their pain right now? Surely the brothers would be feeling a complicated, overwhelming array of emotions about their father’s accident? 

“Well then, good riddance,” Gabriel says offhandedly. “You gonna be okay, though?”

Castiel isn’t sure if he means in general, or about the news concerning John Winchester. Either way, the answer is the same. 

“Not until I talk to Dean,” he says honestly, and Gabriel frowns a little but nods. He stands, taking the food tray with him and promising to drag Castiel out of bed soon. As soon as the door clicks shut again, Castiel groans in frustration and reaches for his phone. To his surprise, the screen isn’t completely empty—there’s a missed call and a voicemail from a 785-number. _Lawrence, Kansas._

Castiel’s heart begins to race.

He fumbles with the screen, clicks on the voicemail message, and hits play.

_Hey, Cast…Casiel…Castiel? Shit, you think I’d be able to say it by now, figurin’ how many times Sam and Dean have said. Anyways…this is Bobby Singer. Don’t know if you heard, but John Winchester loaded himself up behind the wheel and did the thing he’s been threatenin’ to do for nearly fifteen years. He’s gone, and whatever’s going on with you and Dean, I know both those boys need you right now. So you come over on Saturday you hear? We ain’t having no funeral, but we’re fishing and drinking beer all day, so as long as you’re carrying a six-pack you’ll be welcome. Maybe between the two of us we can keep those idjits in one piece._

***

Castiel hefts a twenty-four pack of El Sol over his shoulder, stumbling as the gravel moves under his feet. It’s chilly outside, and he’s glad he slipped on his maroon zip-up hoodie at the last minute. He’s never been on the southeast side of Lawrence, but that’s not surprising. Before meeting the Winchesters, Lawrence was just a college town he had no reason to visit. Now…well, now it’s the hometown of the love of his life. 

On Charise Street he passes by the Impala, feeling the wind knocked out of him. It still looks the same, shiny and black and as intimidating as ever, and it feels odd after so much turmoil that something can remain the same. With his free hand, he touches the exterior as he goes, thinking it’s the closest he’s felt to Dean in a while.

After a short walk, he spots them under a large oak tree. Sam is sitting in a folding chair, reaching into a cooler and cracking open a soda. Bobby is adjusting a fishing rod in his hand, cursing and struggling with the line. 

Dean is standing at the edge of the lake, hands on his hips, staring at the water. A gust of autumn wind rushes past Castiel’s head, and Dean turns around, a glint of sunlight hitting his eyes. It’s striking, the green of his gaze speckled with gold, his mouth slipping from a neutral state into something more complicated. Dean looks thinner than Castiel has ever seen him—jeans baggy that were once forming fitting, arms less defined and skinnier. His skin is pale and his eyes have bags underneath them. It becomes abundantly clear that Dean is experiencing rejection sickness even worse than Castiel is. Why does he seem so much sicker? And why would his omega think it’s better to suffer than to let Castiel’s presence ease his symptoms? 

Fortunately those thoughts are interrupted, because when their eyes meet, it feels like time is halted. _Is he smiling or frowning?_ Castiel can’t decipher his expression, but a flash of strong emotion crosses his omega’s face all the same. The sight of Dean makes a rush of blood course through Castiel’s body, a buzzing electricity under his skin that makes him feel alive for the first time in days.

“Cas!”

The intensity of the moment breaks as Castiel looks down at Sam. The sound of the teenager’s excitement makes him smile—small and forced, but a smile all the same. He’s surprised when the omega stands up and opens his arms out wide. Castiel drops the box of beer by the cooler and accepts the hug, longer and tighter than usual, and when they pull away Sam’s eyes are red and puffy.

“Sam, I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through lately,” Castiel says genuinely. Even though he’s been heartbroken and sick, in Cas’ mind, it doesn’t compare to what Sam must be going through. Presenting as an omega, being nearly raped, and losing his father in a matter of weeks? Castiel’s mind unhelpfully adds that Sam also lost his sense of stability when Dean took him from the manor in the middle of the night, but he’s trying not to be angry with Dean about that. He surely had his reasons.

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam says with a weak smile. “It sucks, but he was never much of a dad anyways. I still have Dean and Bobby and—” 

He hesitates, looking behind his shoulder where Dean is standing a few feet away. Then, he eyes Castiel with a deep frown. 

“You still have me too, you know. No matter what,” Castiel whispers on a hunch, and Sam nods in affirmation, looking relieved.

Bobby strides over to the pair, thrusting his mangled fishing rod into Dean’s hand and instructing him to “make himself useful already.” Dean rolls his eyes and starts to rethread the line, but keeps stealing glances at Castiel that make the alpha’s palms sweat. It’s very difficult not to pull Dean aside, to either yell at him or plead with him or kiss him—Castiel isn’t sure which emotion would win out at this point, he’s so overwhelmed. 

“Well, Dean acting like a blushin’ bride can only mean one thing,” Bobby announces. “You’re Castiel, huh?”

Castiel’s mouth hangs open as Dean _does_ blush, and it’s so adorable that it endears the omega to him all over again. How easy it would be to reach out, to rub his thumb over that beautiful blush, to lean in… _No, he can’t, not now and not here._ This is how it was in the beginning, Cas realizes—feeling things for Dean but trying very hard not to act on them. It’s a cruel twist of fate that they’re back in this place again, awkward and shy and openly pining for each other.

“I am.” He shakes the older man’s hand, who introduces himself as _Bobby Singer, paranoid bastard._ Castiel chuckles unexpectedly, thinking Gabriel would probably enjoy Bobby’s peculiar attitude. They small talk for a moment about the weather, the fish, and the lake—which is called Mary’s Lake, incidentally. It seems fitting that this non-funeral event for John Winchester would include a homage to his wife, whose death changed her family’s lives forever. 

There’s a beat of silence in the conversation, and Bobby grabs Dean by the shoulder suddenly, pulling him into the fold. “And this guy—y’know, the one who won’t pull his head outta his ass? This is Dean.”

“Jesus, Bobby. Real nice,” Dean grumbles, pushing the beta away with a disgruntled shove. “Last time I buy you bait, jackass.”

His gaze settles again on Castiel, and he bites his lip but doesn’t look away. Even from a few feet away, Castiel can tell Dean is wearing blockers again—at this point, he could locate his omega’s natural scent from miles away. He’s been craving it so much. “Uh, hey Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel exhales, watching Dean’s face intently. There are so many things left unsaid between them, so many questions, but Castiel can’t bring himself to dive headfirst into all that just yet. Not on a day that’s meant to be about family. So he says, “I’m sure it’ll shock you to know I’ve never gone fishing.”

Evidently Dean expected them to dive headfirst into conflict too, because he looks completely taken aback. He _laughs_. An honest-to-god laugh that lights up his face, leaves tiny little folds around his mouth, and makes him look like a thousand-pound weight has been lifted off his shoulders. Momentarily, at least. 

“Yeah, never would’ve guessed,” he teases. Then he scratches the back of his neck, shuffling around on his feet. “I could—y’know, show you. If you want.”

Castiel nods heartily. Truthfully he has no interest in fishing, but he would agree to waterboarding at this point if it made Dean smile like that. They head toward the edge of the lake together, and Dean is ranting in a nervous voice about various types of bait, debating the finer points of artificial lures versus live bait. Castiel only listens with half an ear, distracted simply by the act of being within a foot of Dean. Once the omega prepares Castiel’s hook, he tries to explain how to properly cast a line. Perhaps it’s Cas’ utter lack of concentration to do anything but _watch_ as Dean’s lips move, but his line never makes it into the water. 

“You’re letting go too early,” Dean notes, giving him a few pointers and helping him try again. Castiel reels back, tries with a bit more focus this time, but still doesn’t meet his target. 

“Now you’re too late,” Dean says with a low chuckle. Castiel sighs, on the verge of giving up when he feels Dean push up behind him. The proximity makes his breath catch in his throat, his hand white-knuckling the fishing rod as he tries to remain collected. Dean reaches his hand and places it over Castiel’s, moving the alpha’s index finger down to the line. 

“Hold that there,” Dean says in a rich, husky voice right in Castiel’s ear. “Now…” He guides Castiel’s other hand by touching lightly on his elbow, and Castiel feels Dean everywhere now—their hands touching, Dean’s hips pushed against his own. “Open the bell with your left hand.”

Castiel does so, almost mechanically, his hands feeling tingly from the skin-to-skin contact with Dean.

“Just like that,” Dean praises. “Now pick where you wanna cast. See the edge of those weeds?” Castiel nods, feeling Dean’s breath on his neck and not trusting himself to breathe. “Well, that’s what I ‘d shoot for. You can drop this hand—” He touches Castiel’s wrist and the alpha follows. “—and can do this one-handed, okay? Just use the momentum and the weight of the lure as a launching point.”

Castiel exhales. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It _is_ easy,“ Dean answers, chuckling again in his ear. 

“Whatever you say,” Castiel mumbles, not sure what makes him more nervous at this point—never casting his fishing line correctly and embarrassing himself, or having Dean pressed against him like this and _not_ leaning back to kiss him.

“You can do it, Cas. You just have to keep a level head.”

“There’s a problem with that, Dean,” Castiel says in a shaky voice. He looks behind him, their eyes meeting. He’s glad to see Dean’s gaze is open and interested, eager to hear what Castiel is going to say next. “I’ve never been able to keep a level head around you, have I?”

Dean wets his lips and Castiel watches, heart pounding in his chest. 

“Cas…” Dean’s voice breaks. His eyelashes flutter closed and he lunges forward with some urgency. He buries his nose in Castiel’s neck, scenting him fully and letting out a shuddering breath. It happens so quickly that Castiel nearly loses his balance. “God, I know I don’t have any right to say this, but I miss you so fucking much. You smell so good, alpha.”

Castiel nearly drops the fishing pole. “I’m not wearing my blockers,” he mumbles aloud, the realization just occurring to him. “I…I’m so sorry, Dean, I didn’t do that on purpose.”

“Course you didn’t,” Dean mutters against his skin, in a tone that implies Castiel would never try to entice Dean back to him by manipulating him through their scent bond. Which is true, of course. 

“I just haven’t left the house in…a while…” 

Dean continues scenting him and Castiel’s heart is pounding with adrenaline, with need. 

“Dean,” he warns. If his omega keeps nuzzling against his scent gland, keeps pushing against him from behind and breathing on his neck, the possibility of them giving Dean’s family a graphic show will increase tenfold. 

Dean purrs into his ear the more he scents Cas, whispering, “Fuck, so good…feels amazing, alpha… I feel better than I have in days.”

Distantly, Castiel wonders if Dean is scent drunk—he’s certainly acting more loose, more pliant than he was five minutes ago. 

“I wish I could scent you back, omega,” Castiel admits softly, sounding a little desperate now as his self-control begins to slip.

“My…my scent…” As if the words are comprehended slowly, Dean lets out one more breath before freezing behind him, body suddenly rigid as he pulls away inch by inch. When he takes a full step back, no part of them touching anymore, Castiel turns around to face him. Dean’s eyes are wide, his apprehension evidently returning in a rush. 

“Shit, Cas, I’m so… I can’t believe I just did that to you,” he says miserably. 

“It’s okay—”

“No it’s not!” Dean interrupts, heat in his voice now. “I can’t fucking leave you, then scent you just because it felt good! What the hell’s wrong with me?”

He moves to back away further, but Castiel drops the fishing pole at his feet and grips Dean by both wrists. 

“Nothing is wrong with you.” When he speaks again, Castiel’s whisper is broken and wrecked. “What just happened was biological, Dean, because we’re… You and I are…” He swallows a lump in the back of his throat. 

Dean’s eyebrows knit together. “Yeah, maybe we were, but… Then shit happened, alright? And I left. You can’t just erase all that.”

“Maybe I could, if I knew _why_ you left,” Castiel says in a rush. He assumes that Dean’s sudden change in demeanor was a result of what happened while he was in jail, and likely involves some despicable behavior from the alphas in his cell. He also assumes that what happened is traumatic for Dean to talk about, which is why he hasn’t pressed the issue until now. From his facial expressions alone, Castiel can tell Dean is putting up his walls again…so he continues to speak quickly. “Jo said you left to protect me. What were you protecting me from?”

Dean winces, looking down at the ground. “Nothing. No idea what she’s talking about.”

Castiel shakes his head resolutely, bringing his hand to Dean’s chin and making their eyes meet. “I don’t believe you.”

Dean’s hand reaches around and rubs his shoulder absently, as if experiencing a burst of pain. “We can’t, Cas, not right now.”

“We can’t talk?” Castiel questions, then steps into Dean’s personal space. “Or we can’t be together?”

“Both. Neither. I don’t fucking know, okay?” Dean scrubs a hand over his forehead. “You and me—it’s just one more fucked-up thing to add to the pile right now. My dad just died…my abusive, drunken asshole of a dad. Do you know why he died, Cas?” 

Rage is suddenly painted on Dean’s every feature, and Castiel shakes his head, though he wants to guess— _because he was an alcoholic?_

Dean’s voice is deathly quiet as he continues. “Well, I can tell you. Fucking Gordon left me a voicemail and said Dad wrapped his truck around a pole because he heard Sammy is an omega, and had been drinking himself into oblivion ever since. Our dad hated who Sam and I turned out to be, and he died thinking we were just omega trash. And now I have to…what, exactly? Mourn him? Spit on his grave? Think about the good times, before I presented and he lost all goddamn respect for me?” Dean’s breathing picks up rapidly, hands waving around in the air. “Tell me what I’m supposed to do with these feelings, Cas, and then tell me how to fix the mess I made of our relationship. _Of my life._ And while you’re at it, tell me how to keep Sam safe, how to lie to his face and say everything is going to be okay when everything is so fucking far from okay. Tell me please, ‘cause I feel like I’m bursting at the goddamn seams to try and understand. Tell me, just tell me, Cas, please—”

Castiel wraps his arms around Dean’s back and pulls him into an embrace, running a hand through his hair and soothing him quietly. Dean shudders in his arms, holding in sobs as his chest heaves, tears rolling down his cheeks. Castiel isn’t sure how long he holds Dean like this, but it’s long enough that he notices Sam and Bobby still sitting under the tree, looking at them oddly. 

Castiel gives them a small frown, one that doesn’t say much or offer any explanation. How could it? Even if he could use words, he doesn’t fully comprehend the weight of responsibility Dean is keeping on his shoulders. The only thing he’s sure of now is that he’s been selfish, just thinking of his own pain lately when Dean has been alone facing so many obstacles. He holds his omega tighter, unable to ignore how right this feels even as they’re racked with sadness and confusion and guilt. 

Eventually they return to Bobby and Sam, and the four of them fish, mostly in silence. About an hour in, Dean encourages Castiel to eat one of the sandwiches Bobby packed in the cooler. Castiel agrees to lunch only if Dean partakes as well, and they look at each other, a heaviness between them as they both acknowledge the state they’re in. It’s clear that neither of them have been able to sleep, to eat. Dean looks frail, and Castiel is more slender than ever. But that afternoon they sit shoulder-to-shoulder and have lunch, and for the first time in a while, a bit of nourishment doesn’t make Castiel’s stomach twist. 

When daylight is spent and Bobby is packing up his truck, Castiel is reluctant to leave. He wants to see Dean again—or, more accurately, he doesn’t want to be parted now or ever. But Dean tells him in a quiet, gentle whisper that he needs more time to figure things out. 

“When you’re ready to talk, you’ll tell me?” Castiel asks hesitantly, knowing he sounds pathetic but he can’t find it in himself to care. He feels revitalized for the first time in days and he doesn’t want to lose this feeling. 

“Yeah, Cas, I will. I promise.” 

He isn’t ready to go back to his empty bed again, isn’t ready to have more nightmares. But whatever Dean went through in that jail cell, or whatever faith he’s lost in their relationship, Castiel knows he has to wait patiently for a little while longer. 

“Good, because you’re sick…” Dean begins to scoff, but Casitel continues. “Please don’t deny it. I can see how terrible you feel, sweetheart, and it pains me to see you like this when I could do something to help.”

Dean’s facade seems to crumble a bit, and he nods. “For what it’s worth, knowing you feel like shit because of me… It kills me, Cas.”

Castiel doesn’t know what to say, so he acts instead—unzipping his maroon hoodie, folding it evenly, and putting it into Dean’s hands. 

“For when you need me,” he explains softly, and pulls him closer, kissing his forehead. 

He watches the Winchesters load into the Impala, waving at Sam as the car pulls away. He misses them—both of them. But Dean and Castiel won’t be able to walk away from each other, Castiel knows that now. He loves Dean too much. And that impulsive, defensive, beautiful man? He loves Castiel, too.

The other thing he knows? It’s just a matter of time before he learns what Dean is attempting to shield him from. And on that day, it’s very likely that some alphas will be punished. Except for Castiel, of course. 

He’ll be acting as the punisher.

*** 

Dean’s fingers tap along the table's surface, his body itching with the need to pace. He doesn’t have the energy for pacing—he barely has the energy to sit upright in his chair. He’s just glad that the lawyer was willing to meet him at the cabin since Dean doesn’t feel up to going into town.

“Dean, you need to calm down…you're givin’ me an ulcer,” Bobby grumbles, coming to sit down next to Dean. He’s endlessly grateful for the man, though if he thanks Bobby one more time, he’ll probably smack Dean upside the head.

Sam comes bursting into the cabin, a pile of fresh firewood in hand and his cheeks pink. Fall is fast approaching and the cooler days are starting. 

“I think I saw her coming up the drive,” Sam says, setting the wood down by the fireplace. Dean has reluctantly agreed to Sam going back to school, knowing he can’t protect him from the world forever. He even let Sam drive himself in the Impala since Dean was nowhere near up to the task. Since Sam passed his driver’s test over the summer he simply considered this a win. He’s never felt so weak and useless, but the separation and rejection of the bite are taking a toll. Thankfully, Castiel let Sam grab some of his books and school things from his place. The alpha’s generosity knows no bounds, it seems.

A knock raps on the front door and Sam bolts over to answer it. Dean shakily pushes up from his chair to welcome in the alpha. 

“Hello, Miss MacLeod, welcome.” Dean stifles a cough. “Have a seat.”

The petite redhead pulls out a small handkerchief with her nose crinkled, then dusts off the open seat before she gracefully lowers herself. “Please sit, Mister Winchester, before a stiff breeze blows you over.”

Dean grimaces but sits all the same. Sam pulls up a chair beside him. “Can I get you something to drink?” Dean offers, still feeling sheepish that she’s come all this way.

“No, dear boy, we have a lot to get through. Now I hope you have your signing arm ready?” She pulls out a stack of papers from her bag, laying them out on the table before him along with two black pens.

“Are we ready to begin?” she asks briskly, staring at the three men like a teacher getting a class’s attention. They all nod and she pulls out the first packet. “Well, first thing we will deal with is your father’s estate. As we discussed, Mister Winchester, you still wish to sell the property in Lawrence and the business in order to pay off the debt against your contract? Is that correct?”

“Yes ma’am. If it’s worth enough.” He bites his lip, worrying the value may have dropped. Then what will he do?

“We had the appraisers take a look at both properties and come back with estimates. Their current value is actually higher than we anticipated due to rising property prices in those neighborhoods. So here, we have two options for you. One, you may sell the properties on your own or through an agent, collect what you can for them and then pay off the remaining debt to your contract holder, Mister Novak. This will take more time, obviously, with the unpredictability of the market.”

The alpha flips her red hair, pulling out a separate set of paperwork. “Now, I spoke with Mister Novak and his lawyer, and they offered up a secondary option for you.”

Dean can’t help but smile. “That sounds like Cas.” He glances over in time to see Sam’s eyeroll, but chooses to ignore it.

“Yes, he seems to be a very generous alpha. He has offered to simply take ownership of the properties as payment of your debt, instead of the money. Since the properties are valued at well over the amount owed, this is an acceptable payment method by your contract terms. Mister Novak specifically added in that—if you were to choose this avenue—that any remaining profit made from the sales would be put into a trust for you and your brother.”

Dean knows his jaw is hanging open, but he can barely think of a reply to that. He wets his lips and stammers out, “S-so…it’s that easy? Isn’t that kind of a pain for him to have to deal with all that instead of just waiting for the money?”

“Yes, Mister Novak would be assuming the burden of off-loading the properties, and his stipulation about the profits is purely voluntary—he is under no obligation to offer that. Seems he is highly motivated to assist you in regaining your contract as quickly as possible.” She eyes him with a bit of a smirk.

“So uh, how quickly would that happen?” He asks, swallowing hard.

“Today, if you choose that route. I have all the paperwork signed and Mister Novak has already provided his signature. All you have to do, deary, is put your name on the dotted line and I hand over your contract. You can file it with the county clerk’s office today if you wish. Mister Novak will assume ownership of the property and your contract will be officially void. I assume Mister Singer here will be willing to sign as a witness?”

“I’ll wanna have a read over it all.” Bobby nods before turning to Dean. “I think this sounds like the right move, son. It's a real generous offer.”

Dean swallows hard. It's more than generous—he’ll be a free man. He rubs at the burning bite on his skin and thinks, at least he’ll be legally free. He may even get some money…a nest egg put aside so he can put Sam through school.

“I think it's a good idea, Dean, just to be done with the whole thing. You never should have had to sell your contract in the first place. Maybe now we can set it right.” Sam juts out his chin and puts a steadying hand on his brother. Dean looks at those hazel eyes, simply awed at the man Sam is becoming.

“Okay,” he manages to croak out, chest filled with some undefined weight. “I’ll sign. Just tell me where.”

“Now there’s a good lad.” She slides the paperwork across the table. Bobby snatches it, giving it a read through, before he passes it to Dean with a nod, who starts signing. He signs over the deeds, signs the contract annulment papers, and the additional contract regarding the profit from the property sales. His hand ghosts over the neat, beautiful scrawl of Castiel’s signature and his heart gives a familiar, pained thump. Bobby signs as witness, and it's a flurry of papers before the lawyer hands over his official and worn contract papers.

Dean feels a strange sadness as he ends his contract—his last official link to the alpha is broken. He knows it's a good thing for both of them. This won’t be hanging over their heads anymore, and Roman can’t touch him now…at least not legally. Still, for all the trouble it caused, this contract is what brought him to Cas. It's how he met the love of his life, and why he had the happiest six months of his life. Even now, he can’t regret a second of it. His hand shakes a little, holding the papers, and he hates feeling just a little bit further away from Cas now.

“That's it?” he asks quietly.

“Well, that takes care of one contract, yes. But I believe we still have another omega to deal with.” She raises her brow at them and all three stiffen in unison.

“Miss MacLeod…are you talking about my contract?” Sam asks, shifting in his seat. So far, they’ve been unsuccessful in finding the contract or learning who would inherit ownership.

“You may call me Rowena, handsome.” She smiles at him. “And yes, we were able to finally obtain the copy of Sam’s contract from the courts. It seems it was just freshly submitted and a bit lost in the shuffle.”

She leans down and pulls a final packet of paper from her bag, laying it gently on the table. Sam reaches for Dean’s hand and he gives it a reassuring squeeze. Late last night, he and Bobby had discussed this over a few glasses of whiskey. If John had sold the contract and they couldn’t buy it back, they had an exit plan. Canada was damn cold, but they didn’t have omega contracts like the US and had difficult extradition processes. No alpha was ever gonna lay a hand on Sam so long as Dean drew breath.

“Well, don’t hold us in suspense,” Bobby grunts, and Rowena gives him an annoyed look.

“Your father submitted your brother's omega papers with the court the day before his death. It seems in the field of inheritance, he put Dean Winchester.”

Dean thinks his hand might break from the death grip Sam has on it. 

“Can you, uh, repeat that?” Dean asks.

“You are the current contract holder for your brother. You just need to sign here that you accept responsibility for him. Otherwise, he would be turned over to the state and found an appointed alpha guardian.” Rowena dangles the paperwork, and without thinking Dean lunges forward, snatching the papers and pulling them toward him.

“Give me the damn pen.” He holds out his hand, and Sam gives a little laugh of relief as he hands Dean the pen with a shaking hand.

“I can’t believe he did that,” Sam whispers, almost to himself.

“Me either.” Dean huffs, finding the guardian section and adds his signature. He sees a section for a back-up on the contract and quietly adds Bobby’s name there. He can’t be too safe. “Are you really sure an omega can hold the contract for another omega?”

“It is highly unusual but it is totally legal. The head alpha of the family retains initial ownership of the contract, but then is free to name anyone as future guardian after that. I triple checked and I am very good at my job. No one else can touch that contract unless you choose to sell it.”

“Yeah like that would happen,” Bobby grumps, but he fails to hide the smile on his face.

Dean smiles for the first time in a long time and looks over at Sam, “I own your ass, Sammy.”

Sam scowls at him and smacks him on the shoulder. 

“Now go do some dishes, Cinderella,” Dean says with a laugh.

“You're never gonna let me live this down, are you?” Sam grumbles, crossing his arms.

“Nope.” Dean grins, feeling the relief wash through him.

“Obviously when Samuel comes of age, you may sign the contract over to him if you wish.”

“You hear that, Samuel? You better be a bit nicer to your big brother.” Dean wags a finger at him and thrills in the bitch face his brother puts on.

“Now that’s taken care of, I will go get these papers notarized and send you my bill.” She grins at them, throwing Dean a little wink before packing up the papers and floating out of the cabin. 

“I say this calls for a drink.” Bobby slaps them both on the back grabbing the whiskey bottle.

“It's not even noon yet!” Sam laughs.

“Well, it's five somewhere ain’t it? And it's soda for you, anyway.” Bobby hands the can over to Sam, who looks a little disappointed.

Dean takes the whiskey, swallowing a swig and wincing at the burn. “Hey, uh…I gotta make a call, okay?” Dean stands up from the table and shuffles out to the front porch, pulling the maroon hoodie up around his neck. Over the past two weeks—since Cas gave him the hoodie—he’s rarely taken it off. He doesn’t wear it without blockers on, though, not wanting to taint the lovely smell of his alpha with his own bitter, muddled scent.

Dean’s been agonizing over what to do about him and Cas. He’s a master procrastinator—telling himself he will deal with it once Sam is done with his heat, or once he sees a doctor, or when the contract is taken care of. He’s run out of excuses to put this off, but he’s still not sure what to do. He wants Castiel, he wants him so badly—it's all he can think about. He wants to run back to Cas and beg him to forgive him and just pray that he doesn’t care about the bite, pray that he’ll still want him after all this. He wants Cas to mate him, to bite down on his neck and wipe away the taint Roman left there. But everytime he imagines it, all he can think is how Cas never wants to mate with him. If he didn’t before, why would he now? Especially with Dean having been sullied. He thinks it's best to just make a clean break and take his secret with him to the grave. It's the least selfish option, to let Cas go so he never feels like he needs to avenge Dean and risk his life. Worse, so he doesn’t feel obligated to stay with Dean out of some misguided guilt. Cas deserves better than Dean and he’s known that all along. If he wasn’t such a coward he would have just ended it already. Why couldn’t this be as simple as deciding between cake and pie? Pie always wins. Yet here he sits, phone in hand, and unable to stay away from the alpha regardless of what his head is telling him.

He eases into a rocking chair before taking out his phone. Hitting Castiel’s number, he only waits a few rings before his alpha answers, “Dean?”

Dean frowns—Cas always sounds so worried and hopeful when he calls. 

“Heya Cas. So, uh, the lawyer just left.”

“Did it all…go well?” He can hear the hesitation in Cas’ voice, and Dean so desperately wants to crawl into his lap and soothe the man.

“You didn’t have to do that, Cas…to offer to take the property.” He curls in around the phone a little. “That was really nice of you.”

“It’s the least I could do. I assume that means you accepted?”

Dean huffs out a nervous breath. “Yeah, I signed. It's all a done deal, I guess. No more omega weighing you down.”

He feels his chest tighten at the thought of nothing holding the alpha to him anymore. He knows it's for the best. Cas is better off without him, and now he has a choice to leave Dean—guilt free, if he wants.

“Dean, no paper contract ever bound me to you. I’m yours, all yours, and no contract will ever change that.” Castiel’s voice is firm and without doubt.

Dean hates to admit how good it feels to hear that, no matter how selfish that makes him. “I don’t regret it Cas, not any of it. I just want you to know that. Meeting you, being with you, that was worth everything to me.”

“I feel the same,” Cas answers softly. “Did you find out about Sam yet?”

“Yes! Oh shit, I should have led with that. Dad did register him as an omega, but he put my name down on the contract…so he’s safe.” 

Dean hears a huge sigh on the other line. “Thank god, Dean, you both must be so relieved.” Castiel’s voice has a warm, happy purr to it that makes him smile.

“Yeah, just knowing he’s safe… It’s everything, man.” Dean feels his own lip curl in a smile. “Course, now I can tease him for the next few years till he can hold his own contract. It's kinda my brotherly obligation.”

“I would expect nothing less. I’m sure it's a small price for Sam to pay.” Dean smiles as he rubs at his aching stomach, as Cas asks, “How are you feeling?”

Dean squints at the phone, wondering if Castiel is a mind reader. “Been better, but getting by. How about you?”

“Been better, but getting by,” Castiel answers cheekily, making Dean chuckle.

“Okay I deserved that… I miss you,” he adds, quieter than before, already feeling guilt twist his gut.

“I miss you too, omega.” The soft name rolling off the alpha’s tongue makes his skin shiver.

“I guess we need to talk soon… I’m just…” Dean struggles for the words. “I’m so scared that I’ll lose you for good, Cas.” He feels tears pricking his eyes and fights them down.

“My sweet omega, I wish you would believe that nothing could make me turn you away. If you give me the chance, I can prove it to you.” Castiel’s voice is like a balm to his aching soul.

It takes him a few moments to find his voice again, “I guess we’ll find out.” He knows he can’t keep putting it off, that it's not fair to Cas to lead him along without knowing everything.

“Whenever you're ready, Dean. I can wait for you.” He knows the alpha means it, too.

“I was thinking I might go clean some stuff out of the house. There isn’t much left there we want, maybe just some pictures.” He shrugs, feeling tired at the very thought.

“Of course, there’s no rush, Dean. Take your time with it,” Castiel urges him.

“You’re way too nice, alpha.” He smiles.

“To you, yes. You will hopefully never see my bad side,” Castiel huffs.

“I bet it's hot,” Dean says with a chuckle.

Castiel lets out a low sultry growl into the phone that makes Dean shiver in his seat. “If that’s what it takes to get my omega wet, then I am happy to oblige.”

“Jesus, Cas.” Dean barks a laugh, his dick giving a twitch of interest for the first time since his attack. “With a voice like that, you should consider a career as a phone sex operator.”

“Only you get to enjoy that, my omega.” Dean can practically hear the smile in Castiel’s voice. That, more than anything, makes him grin. 

“That’s good, because I don’t like to share.” He smirks a minute, then feels a bit crestfallen…he knows Cas doesn’t share either, and he’s been so tainted. Still, he reins himself in. He needs to stay focused on the bigger items at hand and stop thinking with his dick. “So, do you need to do anything else? With the contract, I mean?”

“Well, now that we’ve closed out the contract, I will meet with Roman to end the rest of the contract I had with him. I want nothing more to do with him.”

Dean’s stomach drops just at the mention of the man. He can smell the bitter oily scent, can feel the sharp teeth sink into his skin, can perceive the burn on his wrists as he struggles. He tries to suck in air, but he can’t, it’s like his whole throat has closed up and he can hear Dick laughing in triumph. His mind whirs, and he can hear the faint sound of someone calling his name.

“Dean… Dean…are you still there? Dean?” 

Dean curses at himself as he fumbles for the phone he dropped in his lap. “S-sorry Cas, I dropped my phone. I’m here.” He tries to shake the images from his mind, the ones that have been haunting him for weeks now.

“Sweetheart, are you sure you're alright?” Castiel’s voice sounds strained. If Cas really is going to see Roman tomorrow, Dean should wait till this whole thing is dissolved before he tells Cas what happened. He's relieved that Cas still seems unaware of his situation with Roman, since that asshole could've gloated to Castiel and rubbed it in his face by now. Since he hasn't, Dean doubts he ever will—maybe he doesn't have a death wish after all.

“I’m peachy, Cas. Glad you’re ending things with him. Just be careful…he’s a dangerous guy, okay?” Dean comforts himself by acknowledging that Cas rarely attends these things alone. Plus, Roman already had his revenge on Cas—it's just Cas who doesn’t know it yet.

“I’m always careful, Dean. He’s more bark than bite.” While the words are meant to comfort they only make him cringe. _If you only knew how wrong you are._

“Let me know when it's all done?” He just wants Dick Roman as far away from him and the people he cares about as possible. If he never sees the man again, it will be too soon.

“I will, please don’t worry.” Castiel’s voice holds that confident rumble he loves so much.

“Call you later?”

“Anytime, Dean.” Castiel's voice is tinged with sadness.

Dean hangs up the phone, shivering a little at the cool air and missing his alpha like a lost limb.

***

“Anything you want in here?” Sam calls from the living room.

Dean pants, wiping sweat from his brow and trying to keep from shaking. Neither him or Sam had wanted to wait another minute to walk away from this house. There were a few boxes of old pictures they assembled, mostly of their mom when she was alive. Dean had insisted on keeping Sam’s baby blanket, despite his protests, and Sam wanted to keep the angel for their Christmas tree.

Dean stumbles a little, getting up and wondering why he’s so hot all of the sudden. He makes it to the living room to see Sam holding a large quilt made by their grandmother. 

“Just bring the quilt. Otherwise, I think I’m good.” He clings a bit to the doorway. “Say, uh…you good to head out soon?”

Sam glances up at him with concern on his face. “Dean, you feelin’ okay?”

“Just tired. Can we hit the road?” He hates rushing Sam, but he also knows there isn’t much here they want.

“Yeah, I’m ready to go.” Sam folds up the blanket and heads out toward the Impala with Dean on his heels.

“Maybe I should drive?” Sam questions, looking Dean up and down.

He wants to argue, but feels a wave of cold sweat hit him. He only nods, handing the keys to his brother and climbing in the passenger side. Sam only seems to watch him with more concern, but Dean just closes his eyes and tries to take deep breaths against the growing ache. This can’t be happening now, _not now_.

By the time they get back to the cabin Dean is nearly out of his mind. Sam helps him out of the car. He’s too out of it to object, so he leans on his brother as he is guided into the house and to his bed. 

“S-Sammy,” he groans, feeling a painful throb low in his groin. He’s on the verge of passing out.

“Dean, is it your heat?” Sam looks at him, face scrunched in worry. This isn’t Dean’s first rodeo, but he thinks Sam has a new appreciation for them now. “Should I call Cas?”

Dean shakes his head. He can’t let Cas come and see what happened to Dean. He trembles in fear at the thought of Cas seeing him, seeing the bite, and being disgusted. He knows if Cas rejected him in his heat it would kill him. He just knows it, without a shadow of a doubt. All the while, his body screams for the alpha, desperate for him. He feels fresh sweat and slick dampen his skin, and wonders if he is going to survive this heat either way.

“Don’t, Sam. Please, just get me some water and let me rest.” He curls in on himself.

“Stubborn, stupid ass,” Sam grumbles as he goes to get a glass of water.

Dean can’t hold in the whimper as his body begins to fall victim to his heat. He rolls in the sheets imagining the feel of his alpha holding him, rutting into him and soothing that bone deep ache. His mind becomes a constant mantra of the one person he wants the most.

_Cas..._

_Cas..._

_My alpha..._

_Castiel..._

***

Castiel knots his blue tie, adjusting it around his collar. It’s the first time he’s slipped on his standard business attire in weeks, and he feels like his old self for a moment…until he looks in the mirror. His skin still looks sickly, and this stiff button-up is making him sweat. It’s been over two weeks now since he saw Dean at Mary’s Lake, and though his rejection sickness was abated for a few days just by being in Dean’s presence, now it’s returned in full force. Every text, every phone call with his omega helps a little…but only being fully reunited with Dean and his comforting scent will cure Castiel’s ailment. 

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his forehead. He thought the day they officially absolved their white-collar contract would be the happiest of his life. He’s relieved, surely, especially since Dean will not only own his own contract now, but Sam’s. Still, he never imagined a future where Dean’s contract being null would still leave them parted. 

“What are you waiting on, my omega?” he mutters aloud. “What’s holding you back?”

As expected, his reflection doesn’t answer—and he chuckles darkly at himself. He knows Dean went through something traumatic during his arrest, which is really the only clue he has. He even called down at the precinct and talked with a friendly officer, one who seemed to know and remember Dean. But Officer Monroe hadn’t told him anything beyond a shared indignation that Dean had been placed in the alpha cells overnight. He also mentioned—in a quiet aside that Castiel figured was off the record—that Officer Walker has been suspended without pay. Castiel had been thrilled to relay that information to Dean, but the omega’s worry that Castiel had learned some _other_ information during this phone call had outweighed his sense of vindication over Gordon’s suspension. It was incredibly suspicious to Castiel, who knew there was something Dean was hiding—but how could he continue to pry if his omega asked him not to?

On an impulse, he slips the tiny, velvet jewelry box into his pocket. Even though Dean has never worn his promise ring before, just knowing that it was made with his omega in mind makes Castiel feel closer to him.

The next hour passes by in what’s become his “new” normal: a forced-breakfast via Gabriel and Ellen; a quick scan of his email inbox for anything pressing; a small, solemn frown overwhelming his face as he stares at Dean’s empty desk. When he feels a creeping depression return to his insides, he shoots off a quick text to Dean. They’ve been chatting almost every day, and Dean’s walls have been lowering slowly but surely. When no response comes through, though, Castiel knows he needs to do something else to keep his mind busy. 

Missouri delivers the perfect distraction when she announces the official paperwork has been faxed over from Miss MacLeod. He signs everything with a flourish, smiling for the first time all day. A half-hour later, Missouri passes him a folder full of papers: the proof of sale for the Winchester home and garage; the original contract between Roman and Castiel; and lastly, the white-collar contract between Dean and Castiel. The latter two are now void, and Castiel can’t wait to rub it in that smug alpha’s face. 

“Go get ‘em,” Missouri encourages, patting Castiel on the shoulder. “Then bring our boys back home.”

Castiel feels his eyes begin to water, but he blinks, pushing them back. He’s cried more the past few weeks than he has since he was a child—if that’s not proof that him and Dean are meant to be together, he’s not sure what is. 

“I’m trying,” he says softly. Then adds, “Tell Alfie we’ll leave for Roman’s office in five minutes.” 

Missouri turns around with a nod, and Castiel makes one last effort to wade through his inbox. He puts a hand on his forehead, feeling drained and clammy. He struggles to focus, scrolling through hundreds of unread emails. There’s one, though, that catches his attention. It’s from an encrypted account, and though that should’ve gone straight into his spam folder, it somehow got through Charlie’s impressive firewall system. It was sent two weeks ago, and the subject line just reads: _thought you should know._

He clicks on it warily, fully expecting to accidentally download some virus and be chastised later by Charlie. Instead a picture downloads slowly, overwhelming his screen as it comes to life inch by inch. The background is a gray wall, and he squints, trying to place the room. In the next few seconds, various elements of the image come to life: a metal table, a pair of handcuffs, a man _in_ the handcuffs. The man is…

The man is Dean. 

Dean’s shirtless upper body is lying flat on the table, tears rolling down his cheeks. There’s a bite mark distinct and bloody on his scent gland. In the main frame there’s only Dick Roman, suit barely ruffled, mouth red and sloppy with Dean’s blood. They’re in the police station. 

Castiel’s brain function seems to go momentarily offline. Before he even realizes what he’s done, he’s picked up his computer monitor and flung it across the room. The screen cracks against the corner of Dean’s desk, but he’s barely noticed because his hands are throwing everything in sight. All the papers on his desk fly to the floor, his favorite paperweight shatters into a million tiny crystals, and even his morning cup of coffee is shattered at his feet. 

Roman—Roman _bit_ Dean? Roman handcuffed Dean to a table and forced a mating bite? Roman is the reason Dean is sick and depressed and practically dying? Roman had the goddamn nerve to touch _Castiel’s mate_? 

“Castiel!” Missouri shouts in a shocked voice, rounding the corner and likely drawn in by the commotion. “What’s—”

“Roman bit Dean,” he growls thunderously. “He—handcuffed him to a table in the police station. He forced himself on Dean. He violated him! What if…” The words _raped him_ lay heavy in Castiel’s mind, his heart beating so quickly he worries he might have a heart attack.

Missouri’s mouth gapes openly, but Castiel only catches her gaze out of the corner of his eye. He can’t focus on anything, adrenaline making his hands shake as he paces around the room. 

“That bastard,” Missouri says in a low voice. “I’ll call the police—”

“No,” Castiel says sharply. Alfie calls down the hallway, “Ready when you are, boss!”

Castiel scrambles for a moment to remember what he was doing before seeing that email. All he can think is _attack protect attack protect._ He’s caught between the impulse to rip Roman’s throat out and cover Dean’s skin in his own scent, his own marks, to lay claim on who’s his.

“Honey, you can’t see Roman like this,” Missouri says cautiously. “Just slow down and make sure you have the right information.” 

“Photos don’t lie.” Castiel rubs a hand over his forehead, the choices ahead of him making his brain feel jumbled. Distantly, a rational part of his brain knows he doesn’t even know who sent this photo—how can he trust this person if they choose to stay anonymous? 

“Just call Dean, okay?” Missouri suggests. 

“No, no, I can’t right now—”

“Why not?” 

“Because, don’t you understand? I can’t do anything but imagine my hand pushing through Roman’s chest cavity and ripping his fucking heart out!” Castiel yells, and his eyes begin to feel itchy and hot—a sure sign that they’ve flashed in color. He’s beginning to turn feral, he knows it and is powerless to stop it. Missouri takes a step back. 

“I understand. Just calm down, okay? Let me get Gabriel, and we can call the police, and then—”

“Don’t call the police, Missouri. I mean it,” he says in a deadly command. Then he reaches for the handle of his briefcase with a quick snatch, walking briskly down the hallway and toward the garage. Missouri is on his heels still, calling his name and begging him to slow down. But all he feels is fury rolling through him, a surreal sort of anger that makes his conscience feel disconnected from his body. 

As he opens up the door of the SUV, Alfie catches sight of him and his eyes go wide. “Boss—”

“SucroCorp,” he snaps. “ _Now_.”

The driver gulps and nods, peeling out of the garage even as Missouri stands on the steps with a hand over her mouth. Behind her stands Gabriel, his horrified frown looking bizarre on his perpetually cheerful face. 

Behind Castiel’s eyes, streaming in his mind like a daydream, he sees images of his fists colliding with Roman’s face over and over and over again. He doesn’t know what it feels like to crush a bone with your bare hands, but after today, he just might. 

His cell phone is vibrating insistently in his pocket. He ignores all their calls and tries to take one piece of Missouri’s advice—calling Dean. The phone rings and rings but he never answers, and Castiel bites his lip so hard, he wonders if he’s drawn blood. _Where is Dean? Is he just oversleeping? Is he safe?_ He opens his messages and shoots a quick text to Sam, asking the teenage omega just that. His hands shake and he can barely type out a coherent message, but eventually he manages. He has just enough presence of mind not to tell Sam about Dean’s situation—no doubt his older brother hasn’t told anyone about how violently he was assaulted. Dean has always been one to try and carry his burdens alone. 

_Not anymore,_ Castiel thinks stubbornly. _This time, Dean, I’m going to be the one to take care of you._

When Sam nor Dean answers, he tosses his phone into his briefcase, feeling restless. By the time Alfie has reached the correct street, Castiel is vibrating with energy and seething with alpha wrath. 

“Stop here,” he commands, and Alfie complies, pulling into a temporary lane near the sidewalk. Castiel grabs his briefcase, clutches it tightly, springs out of the car and begins to run. He gets a few curious looks, but he only has two blocks until he’s reached the skyscraper, and then, only twenty floors up until his fist can collide with Roman’s face. In the elevator he gets uncomfortable glances, and even some alphas are scooting away from him, pressed to the walls of the lift. He’s left the house again without his blockers, he realizes distantly, and he reeks of pissed off alpha. Normally he would be horrified that he’s impacting those around him in such a visceral way, but today his brain power is narrowed down to one focus: _attack, protect, mate._

In that order. 

He gets off the elevator and waltzes past Roman’s receptionist, Eve. 

“Sir—”

“He’s expecting me,” Castiel lies easily, striding straight down the hallway and stopping outside his office. It’s a fancy glass door with silver scroll on the front: _Dick Roman, CEO of Richard Roman Enterprises, Director of SucroCorp._

Castiel wonders if they’ll put the full title on his tombstone. 

He pushes open the door with a fierce swing. It’s a large office, full of windows and leather furniture and an extravagant bar cart full of liquor. In the center of the room is an rich mahogany desk where Roman has a headset on, hands posed agreeably as he speaks into the mic. 

“—all I’m saying is, you help me, I help you,” he says oily, a small smirk playing on his lips. He glances up and spots Castiel standing behind an armchair, chest heaving as he takes in the despicable alpha sitting in front of him. “Listen, Asmodeus, my next appointment just arrived. Can I call you back…? Oh, you’re busy? Well, between eating buckets of fried chicken and getting some omega to suck your greasy cock, how about you make time for my proposal, too?” Roman chuckles, teeth white and gleaming. “Yeah, yeah, I hear you, old friend. I look forward to using that bitch’s mouth real soon. Tomorrow, then.”

He clicks a button on the side of his headset, then pulls it off his head deftly. He places it carefully on his desk, hands raised in greeting. 

“Castiel, what a pleasant surprise,” he says dryly. “I didn’t expect to see you back after our last meeting, though judging by your scent, you’re _not_ here to reinvest in SucroCorp?”

“No.” Castiel opens his briefcase, takes the folder full of paperwork out, and slams it on the desk. “I’m here to tell you these contracts are now void. I’m here to tell you that Dean Winchester is a free omega. I’m here to tell you that he’s _mine,_ and always has been. And…” He drops his briefcase into the nearest armchair and slips his suit jacket off. He goes behind Roman’s desk, eye to eye with the man who tried to ruin the best thing that ever happened to him. “I’m here to kill you.”

***

He’s so close, so close, so close… 

“Fuuuuuuck!” Dean cries out as he manages to force out another weak orgasm. He slumps exhausted back into the sheets, body reflexively clamping down on the fake knot wedged inside him. He’s never felt a heat like this—though his body hot and desperate, cock rock hard and hole slick, are all familiar to him. But the inability to find release is downright painful and draining. Normally his heats are just one long line of orgasms, but now he can barely manage to come a few times over the night. His own smell repels him, a faint waft of bitter oil seems to douse his ability to finish. He catches his breath, enjoying the brief moment of lucidity he has after orgasm before the heat consumes him again.

He tugs the thin sheet over himself when he hears a light knock on his door. He wants to croak out for Sam to come in, but he doesn’t have it in him. A mop of floppy hair peeks around the corner and he sees the bowl and spoon in his hand, and smells the chicken soup. “You wanna try and eat?”

He nods, pulling himself up in bed a minute. He glances at the clock…it took him hours fucking himself on that toy to get his latest orgasm. His body is still milking the plastic knot and he’d be more embarrassed about Sam being in the room if he had the energy. _God, please don’t let me die with a dildo up my ass._

Sam sits gingerly on the edge of the bed and spoon feeds Dean. Another indignity he has to suffer, being too weak to do it himself. He gets half of it down before he feels exhaustion pulling at him.

“I think I know what's going on, Dean.” Sam’s voice is small and hesitant—so unlike his normal, fierce confidence. He takes a better look at Sam now and he looks pale, and a kind of hurt Dean has never seen in him before.

“W–what do you think is going on, Sammy?” he asks, swallowing hard to soothe his raw throat.

Sam just looks at him a moment, then reaches forward for Dean’s sweat-soaked t-shirt and pulls the collar to the side. He doesn’t have a chance to react or pull away as Sam’s thumb runs over the scabbing wound. His heart rabbits in his chest as he watches his little brother's face fall a little.

“I’d hoped you would tell me. You know I have your back no matter what.” Sam sucks in a breath as Dean’s head drops in shame. “I can smell it on you. You’ve been really intense about your blockers ever since we came here, so I had my suspicions. You’ve never hidden your scent from me before.”

Dean realizes no blockers can hide his heat and he hadn’t reapplied them—his cover had been sweated off long ago. “I’m sorry, Sammy,” he mumbles, ‘cause what else is he supposed to say?

“It's not Cas, is it? This is why we ran?” Sam looks at him with heartbreak in his eyes and nearly kills him. He can’t answer, and Sam seems to understand. “I won’t tell him, I swear.”

Dean slumps a little, feeling relief at that. “I can’t let him see me like this, Sam, smell me like this.” He sucks in a steadying breath because he will not cry again.

“Cas would never reject you, Dean, you have to know that,” Sam pleads.

“Sam, please don’t push, alright? I can’t risk it. I can’t have him finding out.” Better to die alone in his heat than die from the look of disgust on his love’s face.

“I know you want him,” Sam protests.

“Of course I do, but I can’t take that risk. I can make it through this. I've done it alone for years, this is just another heat. Don’t worry so much.” He manages to pat his brother's arm before he slides back low on the bed, his heat amping up again. As Sam gets up to leave he calls out to him. “Don’t tell him, Sam, about the bite.”

“I promise.” Sam slips from the room as Dean groans, feeling his tired cock start to harden.

He writhes on the toy as his sweaty hand strips his aching cock. His mind starts to fade into a fever haze. His body rocks against the damp sheets, skin aflame and freezing all at once. He smells his own faint cinnamon tangled up with the bitter oil and can’t hold back the whine.

“Cas… Cas… Cas…” is a whispered mantra on his lips. He snatches at the maroon hoodie, pulling it to his face and sucking in the familiar scent of home, of his alpha. He’s so desperate for it his whole body sings.

He tries to imagine Castiel here, holding him, shushing him, sinking into him and filling him up. He wants, he wants like he’s never wanted anything in his life. He needs Castiel, not just for his body and his heat, he needs him for the love in his eyes. He needs his mate, his best friend. He misses the soft look in his alpha’s eyes when Dean tells him some boring story, or the confused tilt of his head when a pop culture reference goes right past him. He misses the way he teases Dean and pushes Dean outside his comfort zone. He misses his voice and his wild hair and his delicious tongue and scorching blue eyes, and just wants to see him one more time so badly.

“Cas… Cas…. Cas… “ he whimpers for his alpha. Maybe it would have been worth seeing the rejection in his face if he just got to see him again. 

Blurry memories of Dick Roman smiling at him with bloody teeth make him want to gag. A wave of the putrid scent fills his nostrils, and he can’t withhold the growl of rage coursing through him. He wants to rip and tear the alpha to shreds for what he’s done. Body boiling, he humps the bed harder, biting his lip enough to bleed. Rage runs through him that is not his own. He feels it in his core in his heat-addled brain, his alpha, his real alpha is out for someone’s blood. Just the vision of Castiel full of righteous alpha rage, like a storm cracking across the earth, calls to him. His inner omega cries out in kind, releasing his own anger- and hurt-filled growl. He comes with his mate’s name on his lips, tumbling into unconsciousness, a broken plea for salvation that may never come.

“Castiel!”

***

All Roman manages to get out is a small, disbelieving chuckle before Castiel’s fist collides with his jaw. Roman staggers backwards, then scoffs in shocked aggravation. He reaches for Castiel’s shoulders but Castiel is too quick and too rageful, bringing his elbow to Roman’s nose and swiftly striking him. 

“What the fuck!” Roman shouts, clutching in his nose as blood begins to run down. “You just broke my nose, asshole!”

“Oh, I’m just getting started,” Castiel growls, clutching Roman by his collared shirt and slinging him against his own desk. He goes stomach-first, the wind clearly knocked out of him. Castiel spins him around, pinning him to the desk as one hand wraps around his throat. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Roman spits out, eyes blinking as he struggles beneath the alpha above him. 

“For someone who violates and assaults people, I figured it would be obvious.” Castiel tightens his fist and punches his face again, and again, as Roman’s face begins to swell. “You lie and cheat—” _Punch._ “—treat people like property—” _Punch._ “—and I knew that, I always did, so I should’ve seen this coming.” _Punch._ Castiel feels some inkling of strain begin to settle into his hand, an injury forming, but he pushes forward. “I should have known you would handcuff Dean to a table, would bite him against his will, would leave him alone and sick to die. What else did you do to him, you filth?” 

Roman chuckles, a bit of blood seeping out of the corner of his mouth. 

“Did you rape him?” Castiel demands, his grip strong as iron. 

“No, but I wish I had. Think I saw a porno like that once—an omega handcuffed to a table, gettin’ spitroasted by two guys? Mmm, delicious. Edgar could’ve gotten his cock sucked while I fucked that needy little bitch into oblivion. I bet _my mate_ would love that.” 

Castiel growls and Roman spits in his face, a spray of blood hitting Castiel’s cheek. 

“You’ll never lay another hand on him, I swear to god,” Castiel threatens.

“Yeah? Well, at least one thing went according to plan. Seems not even the ‘great’ Castiel can bed a pretty little bitch with another alpha’s bite. What, did you go to sink your cock in, then catch sight of my teeth marks? Bet your dick went real soft, didn’t it?”

Castiel tightens his grip against Roman’s throat, cutting off his air supply and slamming his head against the surface of the desk. 

“Fuck you,” he snarls in a low, murderous voice. “Dean is beautiful and perfect and _mine._ With or without your bite, you self-important piece of shit, _Dean is mine_.” His hand closes around Roman’s neck again, the man choking audibly beneath him. Without a weapon nearby, strangling seems the best way to end Dick Roman’s pitiful little life.

“Even with someone as perverse as you doing their best to destroy him, you’ll never extinguish the light within Dean Winchester. Don’t you see? He’s the purest, most righteous man, and you will not win against him.” Roman is no longer gasping, no longer struggling. His eyes flutter shut. “Dean beat you. I want that to be the last thought in your mind before you die.” 

From the doorway, Castiel hears the creaking of footsteps—he glances up to see Eve peering at them through the glass door, a panicked expression on her face. She turns and runs, distracting Castiel for long enough that he loosens his hold and wonders for the first time what his long-term plan here is. Is he making the right decision? How is he supposed to protect Dean from prison? 

In the split-second that he’s deliberating, Roman pushes against him roughly, gasping for air. Castiel staggers backwards a few steps, caught off-guard. Roman lands a deep blow to Castiel’s stomach and he wheezes before stumbling over to the bar cart. He grabs a handle of the most expensive whiskey he can find, grips it by the neck, and brings it down on the edge of the desk. He shoves the alpha down with a forceful kick and he falls to the floor, shards of glass cutting into his skin. Castiel lunges to the floor and straddles him, one hand still holding the broken bottle. He wields the sharp edge like a weapon, pushing it into Roman’s jugular and breaking the skin. 

“You deserve to die,” he says brazenly, “and you deserve to die by my hand.”

“I–Castiel, please…” 

Castiel pulls his hand back, exhaling, and picks a point on Roman’s neck where he’s going to sink the edge into his flesh. He’s ready, he has to do this no matter the consequences. He has to make Dean feel safe and protected. He has to be rid of Roman once and for all.

But then he feels a hold from behind, hands twisting his wrist backwards as the bottle skitters away. He growls at the interruption, expecting to see a host of overpaid security guards here to sweep Roman to safety. Instead, Gabriel and Jo are staring down at him, both with hands wrapped around his arms and holding him back. 

“Let—me—go!” he barks at them. 

“No can do, Cassie.” Gabriel is surprisingly strong for a petite beta, and combined with Jo’s impressive alpha maneuvers, they manage to subdue him momentarily. “You see, you can’t mate your mouthy little true mate from behind prison bars, and I have no doubt he’d kick my ass six ways from Sunday if I let you murder someone in broad daylight.”

“Do you know what he did?” he demands furiously, eyes blazing red again. “He bit Dean against his will. He violated _my mate_.”

“Yeah, Cas, that’s fucked up,” Jo agrees heartily. “But you know what’s more fucked up? Letting him win. And you killing Roman is letting him win. Even worse, it’s leaving Dean all alone.”

“Don’t do this,” Gabriel urges. When Castiel pushes against their hold, still shooting daggers at the bloody alpha lying frozen on the floor, Gabe adds, “C’mon, alpha, your mate needs you. Are you really going to let your pride overpower your sense of loyalty? Of love?”

“But—he—deserves—to—die,” Castiel pants out. 

“No arguments there,” his brother says honestly. “I have a feeling karma is gonna make him her bitch one way or another. But you need to be safe and healthy and _happy with Dean_ when that happens. Capisce?” 

Castiel closes his eyes, a sudden headache overwhelming his temple. He’s felt warm and sweaty all day, but sitting on his knees now with his hands restrained, he feels a burst of heat ripple through him. His body convulses, a ripple of pain making his muscles ache. 

“Cas?” Jo says with uncertainty. 

“Dean,” Castiel breathes, a realization practically knocking the wind out of him. “I need—I have to get to Dean. Right now.”

Gabriel and Jo exchange a look of astonishment, but don’t question his change of heart. They help him to his feet, grab his briefcase, and begin stumbling side-by-side toward the exit. 

“Oh, hey Dick,” Jo calls angrily over her shoulder, “if we get home and see as much as one police cruiser, you better believe we’ll be handing over that _disgusting_ photo to the county sheriff. Pretty sure your prison sentence will be longer than Cas’, so just try to point a finger at him. I fucking dare you.”

Roman doesn’t speak, just slumps to the floor in a heap, in apparent surrender. Gabriel stares at Jo in amazement, mumbles, “Damn, blondie,” then leads their group to the elevator. Eve is nowhere to be seen, and Castiel wonders aloud what happened to her when Gabriel whispers, “Turns out, evil bitches are easy to pay off. Jo even got her to wipe all the security footage of you.”

Castiel hums in acknowledgment, a distant part of his brain knowing he is extremely lucky to have such a loyal family—and another, more brutal part, longs to go back upstairs and finish what he started. He’s covered in blood, his hands and knuckles and face, and his white button-up shirt is stained and torn. Everyone who sees him gasps a little, repelled by the scent of alpha aggression and rage. But there’s another scent on him too, one Castiel hadn’t recognized until just a moment ago. 

They find Alfie parked in a garage one block over. Castiel slides into the backseat with Gabriel, another wave of clammy nausea fighting its way through his system. 

“Head to Lawrence immediately,” he says to Alfie, who puts the car into drive. 

“But my car!” Gabriel protests. “It’s parked a few blocks away. Have him drop us off first.”

“No time,” Castiel says flatly. 

“Cas—”

“Shh,” he interrupts, his brother blinking at him in surprise. He rifles around in his briefcase, all three sets of his eyes firmly on him. It’s just as he expected—he has a half-dozen texts and calls from Sam. The phone is ringing, even as Gabriel and Jo debate what to do next and Alfie heads for the highway. 

“Cas?” Sam sounds relieved and a little desperate. “Sorry I kept calling, but I didn’t know what else to do. Dean—”

“Is in heat,” Castiel finishes. From the front seat, Jo stops talking immediately, mouth hanging open. “I know. I’m on my way.”

“Did he…call you?” Sam asks slowly. “He told me not to, but he’s in rough shape. He’s totally out of it. I think I’ve heard your name like, eighty times in the past hour.”

“I’m coming as fast as I can.” Castiel takes a deep and shuddering breath. “He didn’t call me. I just knew.” The pause on the end of the line—as well as in the car—makes him exhale impatiently. 

“Sam, I need you to ask Dean if I can come to him.” He closes his eyes, trying to maintain a level head. Even though Roman had claimed he hadn’t assaulted Dean beyond the forced mating bite, Castiel isn’t naive enough to take his word at face value. If Dean had been raped, he might not want Castiel to come to him, to knot him. But the alternative was too grim to imagine. “I know he’s in heat right now and I know it’ll be difficult for him to decide, but if I don’t come, then he might…” 

He gulps and shakes his head, refusing to believe that could ever happen. Not to Dean, not to his strong omega. Dean’s ill, but he could still survive his heat without Castiel…right? He looks at his brother, at Jo, then says into the phone, “Sam?”

“He–he wants you,” Sam says in a rush. “But he said he’s scared… He’s practically incoherent, Cas, but he keeps saying he’s scared of you finding something out.”

With a stifling flash of anger, he realizes Dean is worried about being rejected once Castiel sees Roman’s bite. 

“Tell him that I love him, that _nothing_ could ever make me not want him, and I will see him very soon. Not one thing could ever alter my feelings for him.” 

After a few beats of silence on the phone, Sam says, “Okay, I told him. What else can I do?”

“You can text me the address to the cabin. And then, when I get there, you can head back to the manor with Jo and Gabriel. I’ll take care of him, I promise.”

When the call ends a moment later, he leans against his seat, breathing deeply, eager to finally be reunited with his true mate, his soul mate, his best friend. Castiel feels himself grow hard just at the thought of being with Dean, especially during his heat… He wants to be buried inside his omega, wants to cover every inch of his skin in his true alpha’s scent. He wants to bite him, to override the hideous souvenir from Roman’s attack. He wants to mate him, fully and completely, if his omega will allow him to. 

_Dean, hold on. I’m coming, my omega._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: canon typical violence, mentions of non-consensual touching
> 
> \--
> 
> Who's ready for the reunion of a lifetime? <3
> 
> Quick reminder that we're only anticipating two more chapters of this story and an epilogue. We've been writing so quickly so you guys are aren't stuck in WIP limbo, that we sorta looked up recently and realized this fic is almost over. :( 
> 
> Fret not, though. There's more to come; plus, we're already planning our next co-authored story!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evening, beautiful readers! With all the difficult things going on in the world right now, we’re so happy to share a long chapter like this one—filled with light and love. ❤️
> 
> Oh, and a _whole_ lot of NSFW content. Hehe.

Castiel is coming.

Castiel is coming to the cabin.

Castiel is coming right now.

Dean’s mind can’t wrap around it—fuzzy and tired, imagining Castiel’s soft crooked smile as he comes against the sheets. His body twitches with his release and he feels like his body turns to lead, sinking into the mattress. He gently eases out the toy, though his body protests, wanting something to milk. He’s decided he simply can’t handle a conversation with Castiel with a toy shoved up his ass.

He still can’t believe he agreed to let Castiel come. He blames it on the damn hormones mixed with Sam’s puppy dog eyes. He just can’t help fearing he’s making a terrible mistake. His eyes shift close and he allows himself a chance to doze. He threw up the soup earlier and has only managed a few sips of water, his body rejecting everything he offers it.

“Hey, you up for some water?” He opens his eyes to see Sam crouched over him.

He nods, sitting up in bed a little with Sam’s help and pulling a small throw blanket over his naked shoulders. The material is itchy but it offers him a bit of dignity…if he has any of that left to preserve. He takes a few small sips and the water makes his gut twist. A knock at the cabin door has both brothers flinching.

“It’s gonna be okay, Dean.” Sam tries to reassure him, but all Dean feels is gut-wrenching terror and blissful relief at the thought of Cas.

He watches as Sam goes to the bedroom door and picks up a shotgun—one Dean hadn’t noticed before—and closes the door behind him. Dean thinks that should concern him more than it does. The front door opens and there are muffled voices by the door. 

“I trust you, but I need to hear it from Dean.” Sam’s voice carries through the door, sounding every bit the stubborn little brother. Dean can’t hear the reply, just the low, rough-sounding timbre to Cas’ voice.

As the door opens, Dean grips the blanket tight around him like it's some kind of shield. Even he’s nauseated by his own scent of terror and desire, mixed up with those oily overtones. Sam steps into the room, but is thankfully unarmed. He holds the door half-closed in his hand, looking at Dean.

“Dean, Jo and Gabriel are waiting in the car out front with Alfie. Castiel is staying, so I was going to head out if you're okay?” Dean takes a second to process that. Sam is leaving and Castiel plans to stay with him. But Cas doesn’t even know everything—how can he make that call? What if he leaves Dean all alone here once he knows? 

His heart thumps hard in his chest. Dean studies his brother's face and sees that, for the first time in a while, Sam looks calm. Sam is calm because he trusts Castiel to take care of his brother, so implicitly. If his brother can trust his alpha that much, then Dean can too.

“It’s okay, Sammy, you can go.” He licks his lips and tries to look more confident than he feels.

Sam eyes him a moment before nodding, giving him a reassuring smile. Dean rolls his eyes and flips him off, making Sam chuckle before he slips from the room. Dean bunches the sheet up around his waist and grips his blanket, trying to calm himself down. He’s incredibly grateful his heat is in a moment of lull.

A soft knock at the door and mop of wild dark hair pokes into the room. “You can come in,” he says, clearing his throat.

Castiel slides into the room, eyes bright and concerned as they rake over him. It takes him a moment to notice the rumpled, blood-covered clothes, and the bruised and bloody knuckles. Cas looks like some kind of avenging angel back from battle. Dean can smell the heady scent of alpha dominance on him and he shivers with lust at the sight. Still, his concern for how Castiel became covered in blood wins out over his carnal desires. 

“What the hell happened to you?” he demands, again eyeing the only visible injury on Castiel’s knuckles. Something tells him he hurt those on someone's face.

“Dean.” Castiel breathes his name out like it's a prayer, chest out, and strides to the bed before halting in his steps…seeming to remember himself. The alpha steps a bit slower as he approaches the bed. “May I sit?”

Dean bites his lip but nods, watching his movement to make sure he doesn’t seem to be injured. Castiel lowers himself on the bed next to his knees. 

“Cas, I—” He starts and stops, unsure of what he wants to say. “Are you okay?”

Castiel huffs a bitter laugh. “I should be asking you that.”

“Doesn’t really answer my question.” Dean crosses his arms, subtly scenting the air and taking in the familiar woodsy scent of Castiel. He can feel the muscles in his gut uncramp a bit and that burning need starting up again.

“Observant as always.” Castiel reaches forward, placing the back of his hand across Dean’s forehead. The touch feels like heaven, like it’s actual medicine spreading across his clammy skin. “When did it start?”

Dean frowns, knowing a diversion when he sees it. “Last night. I still have a few days. Stop avoiding the question—what happened to you? And…” He takes a deep breath. “Why did you come?”

Castiel’s face seems to twist and contort as he tries to hold something back, keeping up some kind of mask. Dean can smell so many things on the man—hurt, anger, desire, fear. Well, Dean can check all those boxes too, in spades. The nearness of his alpha is bringing the lust of his heat back quickly, and he doesn’t think they have much time before he won’t be able to hold a lucid conversation. He reaches out a tentative hand and places it on his alpha’s knee.

He looks up at Dean then, blue eyes shining, and whatever put the hurt there he wants to wipe it all away. 

“Dean, I…I know about what he did to you. I saw the bite he forced on you.” The terror is like a wave drowning him, sucking him under a deep dark current. He knows Castiel’s lips are moving but he can’t put the words together. He tries to tell his lungs to breathe but they seem stuck. Everything is frozen. It isn’t until two strong arms grasp his shoulders and worried blue eyes lock onto his that he comes back into focus. “Dean, are you with me?”

He nods, trying to hide the tremble in his body. This is it, this is when Castiel says goodbye. It's why he looks so devastated. 

“I understand, Cas, please j-just go.” He manages to get the words out, and they sound like begging but he can’t bear it. It's too hard, so much harder than he ever imagined having his humiliation laid out before the one person he loves. To watch him walk away.

“Dean, please look at me. Look at me, sweetheart.” Castiel slides farther up the bed, hands sliding down to grip Dean’s and not let go. Dean shakes his head. He can't look him in the eye—now that he knows. 

“Look into my eyes, Dean Winchester.” Castiel’s alpha voice rumbles in his chest and Dean finally looks up at him. What he sees there makes him all but gasp. There’s so much love in his eyes, love he didn’t think he would get to see again. “I love you, Dean… I never stopped and I never will. Nothing that monster did to you will ever change that for me. How could you think I would ever turn you away?” Castiel’s voice is almost sad, and he raises his hand to cup Dean's stubbled cheek.

Dean blows out a long breath as a thumb swipes across his cheek bone. “How…how did you find out?” he croaks out, still stunned that Castiel isn’t out the door by now.

“Someone, I don’t know who, sent me a picture.” Castiel’s voice grows tight, and there's that rumble in his chest again. Dean can see it: the picture on his phone, the bloody toothed smile.

“When did you see it?” he asks, eyes resting on his hands which have laced with Castiel’s. His body thrums with a low burning need.

“This morning. Then I went to have a conversation with… _that_ alpha…about the definition of consent and the consequences of hurting my family.” Castiel’s voice sounds downright murderous and the smell of alpha rage fills Dean’s nose for a moment. His body can’t help but react by pulling away from the scent.

Castiel must see the reaction, because his scent begins to mute. “I’m sorry, Dean, I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.”

“Is he dead?” Dean has to know—if all that effort to protect Castiel from finding out was pointless and he has a fugitive in his bed. Not that he would ever turn Cas away. Dean has a great getaway car, after all.

“He was breathing when I left him.” 

Dean nods, unsure if he is relieved or disappointed. 

“But I would have killed him, if Gabriel and Jo hadn’t stopped me.”

Dean huffs a small laugh. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t. It's not worth losing your life, Cas, it's not worth going to jail.” He rubs a tired hand at his eyes, relieved Cas didn’t ruin his life for him.

“I’m so sorry, Dean.” Castiel shifts nervously next to him. “I failed you,” he whispers out.

“It's not on you, Cas, the only one to blame is that asshole.”

Dean grits his teeth, knowing he should tell Cas everything at this point. He takes a second to focus, to ignore the feeling of warmth and that voice in his head screaming at him, _mate, mate, mate._

“I saw a doctor, she said it's not… She said it's not permanent. The bond, the…smell. The bite is…well, that's not going anywhere. It will take a few months though before it’s fully gone, and I understand if you wanna wait,” he trails off, knowing how offensive he must smell—even in his heat. His sugar sweet cinnamon scent is battling with the bitter oil. He can only imagine how it must be sickening Cas, how _Dean_ must be sickening him.

“Dean, all I see and all I smell when I look at you is the man I love. I want you just as much now as I always have.”

“You can’t mean that,” Dean mumbles, pulling tightly on his blanket. “I’m tainted now, Cas. I’ll always have his mark.”

“I do mean it. You’re mine, and I’m yours.” Castiel inches closer, and the smell of him is so incredibly good Dean could cry from the relief of it.

_But I’m not, I’m not your mate. I just wish I was._

He doubles over as a painful cramp twists his gut. He can’t keep talking anymore—his body is quickly overriding any other needs. He feels the alpha’s hand rubbing at his back as he gives off a reassuring rumble from his chest. Dean can’t help but lean in, pressing his forehead to Castiel’s chest and taking in a few panting breaths. Slick begins to soak the sheets below him, and he whines at the ache there. “Cas, we’re gonna have to finish this another time, okay? So either hand me that knot or give me yours.”

He knows what his preference is, what his body is screaming at him for, and it isn’t the fake knot sitting next to him. He won’t pressure Castiel, though—hell, he doesn’t even know if he’ll get hard with Dean smelling like he is. 

“If you can’t it’s okay, I know the smell—”

Dean’s words are cut off as Castiel lifts his face and crashes their lips together. It's the headiest thing he’s ever tasted, and he pushes into the kiss, licking and nipping at him. 

“Don’t ever doubt how much I want you, Dean,” Castiel growls against his lips. He feels the alpha grab one of his hands and pull it forward, pressing against the very hard cock tenting his slacks.

“Alpha,” Dean breathes, thrilled to smell the want and desire and hear the possessive edge in Castiel’s voice.

“Mine,” Cas whispers out between kisses. He stands then, shucking off his shoes and clothes quickly hitting the floor, more and more of his alpha’s body being revealed. Dean is shocked to see how much thinner he is. He feels his chest ache at the sight, seeing the physical proof of how Dean’s absence has hurt the man.

“I’m so sorry, Cas.” He means it—he never wanted to hurt Cas.

“Hush, no more apologies, please. Let me take care of you.” It's a humble plea, and Dean can’t imagine denying this man.

He nods, staring up at Cas. His alpha is still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. So strong and so caring and so brave. Dean needs to start trusting again—if he doesn’t, this is never gonna work. He grabs the blanket, and in one move, pulls it off his shoulders and drops it to the floor. A quick kick at the sheets and he’s laid bare before his alpha. He tries not to look at himself, the ribs that are beginning to show or the deep dip by his hip bones. Luckily the bruising from his fight with the alphas in jail has healed. Only faint yellowing of the skin in patches remains, ones that you would have to really look for.

“The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Castiel’s voice is low and holds a reverence to it. Castiel is looking at Dean like he’s a work of art and not some banged-up omega.

“Cas, enough talk.” He pulls his legs wider, showing off his needy hole.

Castiel wastes little time then crawling up over him, covering Dean’s body with his own. Dean lets out a filthy moan, their cocks brushing against each other. 

“I’ve missed you so much.” Castiel kisses at his ear and he freezes a moment. As the lips pull back, Dean knows Cas is looking at the ugly bite. 

“Does it still hurt?” he whispers, lips right against his skin.

“It burns still,” Dean admits. “Think it's my body rejecting it.” He rocks his hips up, reminding Cas of his current needs.

“I hate that he hurt you.” Castiel’s voice is a thick rumble and he feels that mouth latch on to his skin, over the aching bite.

“Cas!” he cries out, fingers scrambling onto the alpha’s back, and his whole body quakes at the sensation. It feels amazing, like a soothing balm to his miserable skin.

Cas pulls back, blinking at him. “Did I hurt you?”

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop, need, need,” he whines, and digs his fingers in harder to the alpha’s back.

“Mine,” his alpha growls before latching on again to that same bite, licking and sucking at the skin and covering him in Castiel's scent. It feels so right—feels like heaven, and he can’t get enough.

“Please, need you please,” he begs, scrambling with his hands to try and get Castiel’s cock where it belongs.

“Easy, sweetheart, I have you. Never letting you go again.” Castiel whispers promises into his skin and snakes two fingers down to sink into his wet heat.

“Alpha,” Dean huffs out, his body singing, so close to getting what it wants, what it needs. He’s never been with an alpha in his heat before, and being surrounded by Castiel, the touch of his skin, the smell of his scent. It calms all the aching pain so that only the need to be filled is left.

“So perfect, you're just so perfect.” Castiel finally shifts, pulling Dean’s legs up and out, sliding a pillow under his hips all while never letting his lips leave Dean’s skin. His inner omega purrs.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” he chants until he feels Castiel’s cock sliding into him. His alpha lets out a long, low moan as he sinks into Dean’s warm, wet heat. It feels like a crackle of electricity over his skin, pure ecstasy as his alpha pushes into the hilt. “Fuck me hard, alpha, please. I can take it.”

Castiel doesn’t seem to need much more convincing as he begins to pound into Dean. He wraps his arms around the firm back as his lips latch on to Castiel’s shoulder. He sucks and laves at the skin, tasting him, and marking this alpha as his. His legs wrap around his alpha’s hips and dig into his perfect ass, urging him on as he drills into him.

“Omega, my omega, mine,” Castiel pants and thrusts, blanketing Dean, and he feels the swelling of his knot. Dean needs it so bad, his aching cock throbs between their sweating bodies as he begs for release.

“Oh fuck! Yes alpha, yes!” He feels his body coiling, building like a crescendo.

“Dean,” Castiel growls his name as he pushes his knot past his rim, stretching him wide, and he lets out a wail that is pleasure pain personified. His alpha’s knot swells inside him, locking them together and pressing against every sensitive aching part of him, forcing his release from him—completely untouched. He spills between them, every limb holding on to Castiel for dear life, and there's no words for it. He dizzy with it, the utter blissed out joy running through him.

“Cas, my Cas,” he hums, nuzzling into his alpha and tilting his head while Castiel sucks and kisses at his wound, gently rocking his hips forward as he spills into Dean. Warm pulses of alpha come fill him up and he’s never felt so sated in his whole life.

“So good for me, sweetheart,” Castiel hums softly, scooping him up in his arms and flips onto his back, pulling Dean on top with him. Dean whines at the tug of the knot but quickly settles against Castiel’s chest, the alpha propping himself up to hold Dean on his lap. “Rest now. I have you.”

“You won’t leave?” he asks, feeling a bit punch-drunk on all the pheromones swirling around.

“Not going anywhere, never again. Just sleep, my omega,” his alpha assures him, and a soothing hand strokes through his hair. He feels a sheet being pulled up and over them, and Castiel continues to whisper words of comfort as he tumbles into sleep.

***

Dean hears a low hiss of pain and shifts against the warm body under him. He blinks, letting out a low moan as he feels Castiel’s cock slip from his hole. He nuzzles his nose against Castiel’s throat and hums at the comforting scent. Remembering the sound that woke him, though, he glances to see Castiel’s hand opening and closing. He reaches out for it gently, pulling on the fingers so he can get a better look.

“Swollen,” he huffs, running a finger over the bruised knuckles, and Castiel fails to hide a hiss. He pulls his hand back.

“It's not so bad,” the alpha counters, then adds, “Lets get cleaned up.”

Dean can’t argue with that, but he’s going to have a look at that hand, too. Castiel shifts to stand and guides Dean to his feet. He wobbles a moment, but Cas is there to steady him. His body feels weak but the pain is measurably better and his head feels clearer. They shuffle to the bathroom together and Castiel turns on the shower for them.

He looks at his alpha to see the frown on his face. 

“What's up, buttercup?”

Castiel glances at him with a raised brow. “There’s no tub. You should be able to soak.” He can hear the frustration in Cas’ voice and feels a twinge of guilt that they are stuck in the cabin for the duration of his heat.

“Sorry ‘bout that, but the water heater is pretty big,” he says with a shrug.

Castiel’s eyes seem to assess him a moment, making him squirm. “We can make do. Come here.” Castiel’s smile is warm as he holds out his good hand. Dean takes it and follows him into the water. It feels amazing on his itchy skin. Castiel grabs the plain white soap, lathering it up while Dean leans into the spray of water. He feels the hands begin to lather his back, and he wants to protest that he can do it himself, but it feels too good. His skin is still begging for his alpha’s touch.

Castiel lets out a low hum as his hands skim over him. “I missed you so much,” Castiel whispers against his shoulder, wet lips dragging on his freckled skin.

“Missed you too. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” He feels a bit ashamed for not having trusted Cas more.

“I understand.” Castiel’s voice is warm and genuine, hands scrubbing at his scalp. “You were coping with a trauma, Dean. I’m just glad to be here now.” Castiel’s hand pauses in his hair, and Dean can tell he’s debating something. “You don’t have to tell me, Dean, not now, not ever if you don’t want to...but was the bite all that happened? Did he…did they…?”

Dean is shaking his head before Castiel can even finish. “No, they didn’t…do that. None of them did. I think that just…tainting me with his bite was enough for Roman. And the drunk tank alphas didn’t stand a chance against a Winchester’s right hook.” He scoffs, trying to lighten how very real a threat that had been. How close he had come to losing that battle.

“You’re not tainted, Dean,” Castiel answers into his damp skin, pressing kisses all along his shoulder and back till he feels the momentary tension release. Dean sighs, head tipped back onto Castiel’s shoulder. He lets himself feel it, that sense of safety he’s been craving. And it's not just physical safety—it’s knowing Castiel won’t hurt his body or his heart. Dean feels weak, and lets Castiel bear some of his weight while he finishes washing them both.

Once out of the shower with a towel around his waist, he points at the closed toilet seat. “Sit.”

Castiel frowns in confusion at him, a tilt of his head that makes Dean smile. 

“Come on, sit,” he urges, knowing he doesn’t have much time left before his heat comes. Honestly, he’s surprised the urge has been so well sated with one knotting by his alpha.

Castiel sits finally and Dean grabs some bandages from the medicine cabinet. He settles on his knees before him, and grins at the submissive omega picture he must paint—kneeling at the feet of his alpha. Thanks to the utter look of adoration in Castiel’s eyes, though, Dean doesn’t doubt who holds the power here.

“Let me see.” He takes Castiel’s injured hand, not missing the cringe on his face. He can feel the heat and swelling around the joints, and he moves the fingers, checking each one for any sign of a break. As far as he can tell it's just bruised knuckles and a sprained wrist. Marks of Castiel’s vengeance for Dean. He’s never had someone other than Sam stand up for him like that before. No one has ever cared enough, and yet time and time again, this man has come to his defense. He feels an overwhelming rush of love and gratitude. He places a soft kiss on the battered knuckles before he takes the ACE bandage and begins to wrap the wrist to try and stabilize it. 

“Always taking care of someone.” Castiel’s eyes crinkle at him fondly.

He shrugs. “Least I can do.”

He finishes, and feels his skin begin to prickle—the need of his heat crawling up his spine. He takes a breath just as a wave of heat rolls through him, and feels slick between his cheeks.

“C-Cas,” he whines, a low tremor in his body now.

“I have you.” Castiel stands, pulling Dean up into his arms, and _fuck_ …he smells so good. His alpha’s cock is tenting his towel already. 

“Smell so good, omega.” Dean breathes in deep and realizes he _does_ smell good—his cinnamon scent is strong and mixing with Castiel’s, and he can barely smell Roman anymore. “Can’t wait to fill you up, fuck you full,” Castiel growls in his ear, and Dean thinks that sounds like an excellent idea.

***

It’s the middle of the night and Castiel snaps his hips forward, pounding into Dean from behind, hands gripping his omega’s hips. Dean’s hands fist in the sheets, his head lulls to one side as he moans and begs for Castiel to fuck him _harder, faster, right there!_ This is the sixth, maybe seventh time they’ve done this now, and Castiel can’t find enough self-control not to lose it every time. Dean’s hole is hot and wet and Castiel’s cock throbs inside him, wondering if he’s as overwhelmed by Dean’s heat as the omega is. It’s not the same thing—going through a heat as an omega, and being an alpha surrounded by the delicious scent of slick and arousal—but Castiel feels like his brain has been offline for hours now. Whether they’re having sex or sleeping or holding each other, Castiel keeps returning to Dean’s scent gland again and again, rubbing his own scent over Roman’s and claiming his omega in everything but blood. 

But _oh_ , how Castiel wants to claim him that way, too. How he wants to sink his teeth into the spot where Dean’s neck and shoulder meet, to pump him full of come at the exact moment he sinks his teeth into Dean’s tender flesh. He imagines that Dean would come untouched from the intensity alone, like he has so many times tonight already. But Castiel can’t bite him like this—not in the throes in passion, in the middle of his heat when they’re both operating on animalistic instinct. And not before talking to Dean, a _lucid_ Dean, about what he wants. 

Still, just the thought of biting him makes Castiel shout and come, painting Dean’s insides as his muscles milk Castiel’s knot. The alpha falls forward and Dean moans in protest, Castiel’s cock rubbing his sensitive hole. 

“Shh, baby, sorry,” Castiel mutters softly, running a hand through Dean’s sweaty hair and kissing his neck. They’re both covered in hickies, on their collarbones mostly but Castiel has left three around Dean’s scent gland. Hours ago, in a quiet lull before the desperate need overtook him again, Dean had joked that Cas was basically acting like a dog peeing in the same spot to mark his territory. Castiel hadn’t loved the comparison, but had to admit the parallels were there. 

“So gorgeous for me, my love,” he whispers, thinking Dean might be asleep—but then Dean clenches down on his cock again, somehow forcing _more_ come out of Castiel’s tired dick. The alpha moans, the mix of pain, pleasure, and oversensitivity officially too much for him to bear. 

“Fuck, Cas, you’re like an untapped well,” Dean comments, rolling his hips deeper and breathing heavy. “Feel so good inside me, alpha.” 

It takes twenty minutes for the knot to go down, and by then, Dean is sleeping soundly on the edge of the bed. Castiel drags himself to his feet, grabs a warm washcloth, and cleans Dean up best he can. Just the sight of Dean’s red, puffy hole seeping with Castiel’s come has the alpha in a frenzy, a spike of arousal burning in his gut. But he swallows it down, knowing Dean will appreciate the hour or so of sleep before he rolls over and impales himself on Castiel’s cock again. 

During the quick reprieve, Castiel does what he can: whips together some food for Dean (or, more accurately, pushes some buttons on the microwave). Makes his omega drink lots of water and Gatorade. Changes the sheets as often as he can, though there aren’t many amenities to work with inside the cabin. He’s been tempted a few times to carry Dean out to the Impala bridal-style, to drive him home so they can roll around and enjoy this time together in their own bed. But the possibility of being stopped for any reason, or by any other alpha, would certainly result in Castiel’s hands being covered in blood. More likely, though, is his omega waking up and crawling into Castiel’s lap while driving, seeking out his alpha’s cock. Neither scenario would be safe for Dean, which is Castiel’s only priority. 

So he stays at the cabin and never leaves Dean’s side for long, alternating between hydrating him and cleaning him, feeding him and fucking him, until his omega is completely sated at the end of every night and Castiel slumps down into the mattress to catch a few minutes of sleep.

***

Two days later, Castiel wakes up to the smell of bacon. His stomach lurches, rumbling with an intense hunger he hasn’t felt in weeks. He’s also confused, because the bed is empty and no one else is here, so… After days of frantic fucking, his omega must feel well enough to be making breakfast. 

With sweatpants tossed on—thank goodness for Charlie’s recent drop-off of clothes and groceries—he ambles into the small kitchenette where Dean is frying bacon and eggs in a cast-iron skillet. His omega is wearing a pair of loose-fitting boxers. Another good sign that he’s feeling better, Castiel thinks, since he’s been more or less in the nude since his heat hit. 

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Dean greets, spatula in hand and grinning widely. Castiel smiles back and comes behind him, pressing his mouth to Dean’s neck and inhaling. Dean’s sweet cinnamon scent has returned in full force, with no remaining traces of his assailant clinging to Dean’s skin. Castiel is surprised—but thankful—that their scent bond was apparently so strong, it overwhelmed Roman’s mating bite in a matter of days. Even though his scent has reverted back to normal, Castiel knows Dean’s ordeal will need time to fully heal. Eventually he’ll suggest they visit his old therapist, Pam, who he’s seen on and off throughout the years whenever he needed to talk about Jimmy. But that’s a conversation for later; for now, Castiel is content to engulf himself in their reconciliation, kissing Dean’s neck softly and purring with pleasure at their combined scent. 

“You smell like me,” Castiel mumbles approvingly against Dean’s skin. “And I smell like you.”

“Yeah, well…three days of sex will do that to you,” Dean says, sounding cheerful. 

“You should still be resting, though,” Castiel scolds lightly, looking down at the perfectly crisp bacon Dean’s flipping in the skillet. “Sit down—I can finish this.”

Dean scoffs. “No way. First of all, I feel _amazing_. Seriously, this is the fastest my heat has ever broken, so I wanted to celebrate that with my true love…” He pauses and shoots his alpha a wink. “Bacon.”

“Naturally,” Castiel says dryly, enjoying how Dean’s eyes are sparkling with mischief. He’s in a great mood, and even in Cas’ non-caffeinated state, Dean’s happiness is enough to make him feel energized. Huh, he thinks, speaking of coffee… 

He heads to the tiny glass pot, but Dean says, “Already poured you a cup, handsome.” He points to a full mug on the countertop, fixed just how Castiel likes it, and Cas’ chest is flooded with adoration. 

He takes a long and gracious sip, then says, “Okay, so… Second of all?”

“Oh, right.” Dean divides up the scrambled eggs onto two plates, then does the same for the finished bacon. “Second of all, we both know that you, plus this old-ass stove, equals instant cabin fire.”

Castiel chuckles and rolls his eyes, but doesn’t protest. “Fine. Then I’m doing the dishes at the very least.” 

Dean smiles and nods, becoming suddenly quiet as he reaches for the cutlery. 

“What are you thinking about?” Castiel asks softly. A blush is coloring Dean’s cheeks, and the alpha pulls him to his side, reaching a hand under his chin. 

“Nothing,” Dean murmurs, but Castiel raises an eyebrow, so he continues. “Just—I dunno, it’s been awesome being here alone with you. Getting to do normal things together in between crazy heat sex. It’s stupid, I know, but I’ll miss it once we go back to the manor.”

Castiel’s forehead wrinkles. “Normal things like what?”

“Y’know…” Dean exhales, looking down at his hands. “Fighting over the bathroom, deciding who’s gonna clean the dishes. Couple stuff that doesn’t come up when you live in a mansion with ten bathrooms and a live-in chef.”

Castiel blinks, never quite thinking about it that way. He’s lived in a state of wealth and privilege for too long, he thinks with some embarrassment. 

“Plus, the privacy to get fucked on every available surface without someone walking in…” Dean grins again, this time with a little heat behind his gaze. “Well, that’s been nice, too.”

Castiel returns the heat by kissing Dean deeply, thinking of all the places they’ve consummated their relationship in this cabin alone. The bed, the shower, the hallway, the couch, the table, the back porch—he’s honestly lost count.

“That never would have occurred to me,” he admits finally, an apology in his voice. “I’ve loved being alone with you too, and I’ve never truly liked living at the estate. But now that I have a full staff to support—friends who are more like family now—I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

Dean gives him a small shrug and grabs their plates. “I get it, Cas. I was just thinkin’ out loud.” He kisses his cheek and says, “Let’s eat before our eggs get cold.”

***

It’s the next day, after Dean has decided it’s time to start packing and heading home, that he asks, “Uh…Cas?”

Castiel is stripping the bedsheets, wondering how they’re _ever_ going to get the scent of sex out of the linens. Perhaps it would be better just to buy Bobby’s friend a new set entirely. He glances up to see his suitcase at Dean’s feet, the clothes folded neatly, and a pair of his dress slacks in the omega’s hands. 

“I’m afraid those are beyond a dry cleaner’s expertise,” Castiel says sadly, looking at the various stains—Roman’s blood, his blood, tears at the bottom cuff. He liked that suit quite a lot, but he has no intention of keeping it now and reliving that day.

“Yeah, I got that. But what about this?” Dean drops the slacks, and then he’s holding a small, velvet ring box in his hands. Castiel feels a little lightheaded at the sight. 

“That…oh, that.” He swallows, suddenly feeling shy. He opens his mouth to explain, but his head is a jumble of different explanations and avenues, and the stuffy air around him still lingers with omega heat and arousal. “Can we get some fresh air?”

Dean seems surprised, but nods, flushing a little as he drops the box onto the dresser and reaches for his boots. Castiel slides the ring box back into his pocket when Dean isn’t looking, ties his loafers, then follows Dean into the autumn afternoon.

They head down a small trail they took yesterday, once Dean’s heat was over and they could safely exit the confines of the cabin. They’re in a remote spot and there are no neighbors around, but Castiel still wouldn’t risk Dean’s safety until his pheromones had become somewhat muted again. Castiel slips his hand into Dean’s and the omega takes it gladly, grasping his fingers as they walk down the gravel. 

“It’s a promise ring, and it’s yours… If you want it,” he begins, staring straight ahead as he finds the courage to say what’s on his mind. Beside him, there’s a small hitch in Dean’s breath, his gaze fixated on Cas. “It’s a promise to be yours. To be your friend, your lover, your alpha…” He stops and turns, looking into Dean’s eyes and seeing only awe displayed there. “And your mate, if you’ll have me.” 

Dean brings a hand to Castiel’s cheek, smiling broadly… Before some sort of realization seems to cross his mind. Then there’s only the scent of sadness, of disappointment that makes Castiel stomach twist. 

“You don’t have to do that, Cas.” 

Castiel takes a deep breath, feeling like his heart might be splintering. “I don’t have to, but I want to. More than anything.”

Dean shakes his head vehemently, dropping his hand from Cas’ cheek. “The blood bond broke on its own, okay? You don’t have to mate me just to save me.”

Castiel eyes widen. “This has nothing to do with… _that_ , I promise. This is about us.”

The omega looks down at the ground, then back up at Castiel, eyes determined. “Listen, god knows I’ve wanted to be yours for…for forever. But not like this—not because you feel like you have to—”

“I don’t!” Castiel interrupts, feeling a wave of disbelief ripple through him. “I’m asking this because I want to be yours and I want you to be mine. Why can’t you believe that?”

“Because you’re the guy who _never_ wanted a mate!” Dean shoots back, his voice rising. “You told me that yourself, remember? The night you first kissed me. You were sure that mating with an omega would ruin everything. But now, _poor Dean_ got himself into another shitty situation, and you want to help by doing something you never wanted to do. It’s a decent thing to do, Cas, but I’m not some pregnant chick at a shotgun wedding, alright? You don’t have to offer me this just because you feel obligated—”

Castiel feels his frustration boil over and he tackles Dean to the ground, pushing him into a pile of fallen leaves. 

“Hey!” Dean cries in protest, but there’s no fear or concern in his scent, so Castiel continues to pin him to the ground. “Can’t believe you’re making _me_ say this, but conversations don’t usually include wrestling, y’know.”

“Yes, well…you were being so infuriating that I had no alternative,” Castiel says simply, and Dean scoffs beneath him. “I want you to reach into my pocket—”

“Why? Is this some kinky, outdoor sex thing?” Dean jokes, and Castiel narrows his eyes and continues. 

“I want you to open the ring box. I want you to look at the ring. It’s silver, because I know you prefer that to gold or bronze. The strip in the middle is green, like your eyes. The ring should fit you perfectly, because I had to wait a week to have it sized.” He exhales, watching Dean’s expression soften, his lips parting in surprise. “And, to fully prove that I wanted to mate you before I knew _anything_ was going on, I want you to look at the date on the receipt.”

Dean bites his lip and exhales shakily, snaking his hand down to Cas’ front pocket. He fingers the box cautiously, as if opening it might change everything. And really, Castiel thinks hopefully, it might. He leans on his elbows, taking some of his weight off Dean as his boyfriend cracks open the small box. He gapes at the ring, touching the cool metal with an amazed look in his eye. Then he unfolds the tiny receipt shoved inside, the one Castiel had intended to throw away but kept at the last minute. 

Dean stares at the paper, up to Castiel, then down at the paper again. He does this several times before whispering, “You bought this on the day of Sammy’s first heat.”

Castiel nods. “I had officially severed ties with Roman. I felt antsy at the thought of losing cell service, but figured I was just being an overprotective alpha, so I went ahead and did my next errand while I was downtown.” He tilts his head down, toward the ring box. “This.” 

Lips pursed, he waits for Dean’s true reaction to shine through. 

“You wanted to ask me to be your mate…a _month_ ago?” Dean asks incredulously. 

“I wanted to ask you before then, Dean, but a month ago was when I went to the jewelry store and selected this ring.” 

“But…I don’t understand, Cas. What changed your mind?” Dean breathes, heart racing beneath Castiel’s outstretched palm.

“A lot of little things, including a dream about Jimmy, which I’ll tell you about sometime.” He reaches for the box and Dean lets it slip, still staring up at Cas in dazed shock. “But mostly, it was realizing that history repeating itself wasn’t my greatest fear anymore. Resisting my instincts, not allowing myself to be happy when every bone in my body wanted to be tied to you forever—that became the worst possible fate. Now I know…I’d rather die after one happy year with you, than live forty meaningless years without you.”

Dean gasps under his breath, staring up at his alpha like he’s god’s gift to romance. “Jesus, Cas…”

Castiel reaches for the ring and grabs Dean’s hand, his thumb kneading gentle circles into his omega’s skin. 

“I know you hate ‘chick-flick moments,’ but you have to let me say it. Dean Winchester, I love you. You’re my true mate, there’s no doubt in my mind. And while we’ve seen that we _can_ live without each other, I don’t want to. I never want either of us to go through that pain again, sweetheart.” 

The back of Castiel’s throat burns, just remembering the weeks of absolute misery when he thought he might’ve lost his omega forever. He can only imagine what Dean was going through, pushing Castiel away in an attempt to save him. But they’ve worked through all the heartbreak, spending the past few days making love and talking things through and whispering sweet nothings. This was the last thing Castiel needed to get off his chest, the last secret standing between them.

“I love you, too.” Dean gives him a watery-eyed, gleaming smile. “Well? You gonna officially ask me, or what?”

Castiel chuckles, shaking his head. “Dean, will you do me the honor of being my mate?”

Dean surges up then, hands wrapping around Castiel’s neck and dragging him down to the ground. Their lips meet, colliding like they’ve done dozens of times during Dean’s heat, but now it feels different. More significant. Dean’s mouth is slightly cold and dry from being out in the autumn air, but Castiel licks his way into his omega’s mouth—warming them both up quickly. Dean kisses him with an insistence that takes Castiel’s breath away, and after rolling around in the leaves, making out for an amount of time that could be five minutes or an hour, Castiel pulls away. He licks his lips, forehead touching Dean’s, and asks in a whisper, “Is that a yes?”

Dean laughs, the sound of joy personified. “Yeah, Cas. That’s a ‘hell yeah.’”

When their next kiss comes, Castiel notices that they’re both smiling. The kisses turn less celebratory and more wanton, though, as Dean straddles him, grinding down on Castiel’s half-hard cock and moaning into his mouth. His mouth feels like it’s everywhere, on Castiel’s lips and neck, and when he sinks down to the alpha’s groin and begins mouthing at his erection through the cotton of his sweatpants, Castiel twitches with sudden need. 

“Dean,” he says huskily, threading his hands through Dean’s hair. The omega looks up at him, pupils dilated and hands already tugging on Castiel’s waistband. “What are you…?”

“Want you, alpha, want you to make me yours.” He slips Castiel’s pants and boxers down to thigh-level, and perhaps to show how enthusiastically he means what he says, he wraps his mouth around the head of Castiel’s cock. Castiel shudders at the abrupt heat, the tongue twirling on his cockhead—setting off fireworks of arousal through every inch of his body. 

“We can’t…do this…here,” he pants, struggling to maintain any semblance of control. His hips jut forward instinctually, though, when Dean’s hand lightly touches his balls. His cock shoves in Dean’s mouth fully, and he goes to utter an apology when he sees Dean is revelling in it—swallowing Castiel down like the intrusion is a gift. 

“Dean,” he says, “we’re _outside_.”

“Then let’s go inside,” Dean whispers, popping off Castiel’s cock long enough to speak, his voice sounding wrecked. 

“No, we should…I want to mate you in our bed…” Dean goes back down on him like his alpha wasn’t just protesting, and Castiel tries to make eye contact with his omega—but that, turns out, is a big mistake. Dean’s cheeks are flushed, his mouth is stuffed full with Castiel’s cock, and the tears in the corners of his eyes are an indication that the girth and length are proving to be a challenge. He’s the image of lust and desire and _love_ , and Castiel isn’t sure he can deny his omega anything right now. If he ever could.

“Please, alpha. Don’t make me wait,” Dean says, his tone practically a beg. Castiel sits up on his elbows though, trying to look stern, but he already feels his resolve waning. 

“Sweetheart, five minutes ago you told me no—”

"I just had to be sure that you really meant it, ‘cause I won't lie…I've wanted this for a long time.” Dean scrubs a hand over his face, looking at Castiel intently. “I know what I want, I know who I want, and I've been through enough terrible shit to know that you can't let a good thing slip through your fingers. We've proved how much it sucks when we’re apart…like _really_ sucks." Castiel smiles at the adorable nose crinkle on Dean's face. His omega's features smooth out as he looks him in the eyes. "I almost let you go, Cas, and it would’ve been the biggest mistake of my life. So if you'll have me, I don't wanna wait. I don't wanna waste another second. I just wanna be yours."

Castiel nods in agreement, a little awestruck. “That’s what I want, too. More than anything. But for this, you deserve Egyptian cotton sheets, candles, champagne…”

Dean snorts, shaking his head. “I don’t need that. All I need is you.”

Castiel looks down at the grass, trying to ignore his hard cock and Dean’s proximity to it, and thinks about his options. On one hand, he’s feeling somewhat convinced that Dean is moving too quickly—but on another, much more satisfying hand, he knows they’ve been scentbonded for months now. Dean’s never shied away from implying that he would be open to being Castiel’s mate, and after everything they’ve been through, can he deny his omega any shred of happiness or security? 

“You know what I’m looking forward to?” Dean continues, snaking his hand down to Castiel’s neck and leaning in closely, until they’re a breath apart. “Next time I’m in a room with a bunch of alphas, they’ll _know_. They’ll be able to smell you on me, alpha, and know we’re mated.” He kisses Castiel’s neck with wet, sloppy kisses, then reaches a hand down and strokes Castiel’s cock with a firm grip. Maybe recent events have made Castiel extra protective, but the alpha feels a possessive growl building in the back of his throat at the image of Dean around _any other alphas but him._ He sits up, pumped full of adrenaline, and pulls Dean to his lap with an urgency, slipping his tongue between Dean’s parted lips and gripping him tightly.

“Mine,” Castiel rumbles in Dean’s ear, feeling blinded by sheer need—he has to claim his omega, his mate. 

“And you’re _mine_ ,” Dean whispers. “And I want everyone to know it…April, Inias, anyone who ever tried to take you away from me. Maybe I’ll call them during your next rut, while you’re still inside of me, and brag about how _good_ your knot feels.”

Dean is writhing around on his lap now, rubbing Castiel’s cock against his ass, and thanks to the possessive dirty talk it becomes apparent that they’re wearing way too many clothes. Still, his last rational brain cell refuses to mate Dean outside, even if they are in a secluded area with no one around. Who knows how long his knot will last after a mating bite, and the thought of lying in the grass for such an undetermined amount of time makes his skin itch. So with great effort, he pulls away, panting and chest heaving, and demands, “Inside, omega. _Now._ ”

Dean breathes heavily, nods, and takes off back toward the cabin. Castiel fumbles around for a split-second, stuffing his painful erection back into his pants, before taking off, stalking Dean’s footsteps like only an aroused alpha can. Dean makes it through the doorway before Castiel is behind him, shoving him against the wall and kissing him relentlessly. Dean moans as the alpha nips and bites his lower lip, then begins manhandling him down the hallway and into the bedroom. His omega hits the mattress, parting with Castiel’s mouth long enough for a whimper to escape his mouth, and then Castiel is dragging Dean’s pants off with a needy growl. In hindsight, he’s glad Dean is actually wearing one of Castiel’s t-shirts, because he doesn’t feel nearly as guilty when he rips it right down the middle. 

“Holy shit,” Dean breathes, gaze hooded over, tearing the shredded shirt off his arms. Then he’s officially naked. The bed isn’t even made—wasn’t Castiel in the middle of stripping the dirty sheets?—and the frame creaks as Castiel kicks off his own clothes and climbs on top of Dean, slamming their mouths together again. The scent of Dean’s heat is still clinging in the air, and Castiel can’t take it, can’t handle how _good_ his omega smells. He wants to taste it for himself, wants to have that sweetness roll around on his tongue. He pushes Dean’s knees against his chest, exposing his hole, and slides a pillow under his hips. Then the alpha licks and licks and _licks_. Dean squirms and wails as Castiel’s tongue fucks him, but the alpha can’t get enough of the slick he’s swallowing down, can’t get enough of Dean’s pink and glistening hole inviting him to enter. He’s still loose and freshly fucked from a few hours ago, but Castiel still takes his time rimming his omega out, enjoying the breathy moans and desperate pleas falling from Dean’s mouth. 

“F-fuck, Cas, please, just do it, just fucking do it, baby please, I need you!” Dean cries, and Castiel pulls away with his chin shining, slick running down the corners of his mouth. He gives Dean a filthy wet kiss before plunging three fingers inside him, finding his omega’s hole ready and open, practically gaping from three days of marathon sex. It occurs to Castiel they shouldn’t want each other this badly outside of Dean’s heat, that they shouldn’t have almost been tied together _outside_ because they couldn’t imagine waiting a second longer. But somehow their thirst hasn’t been sated, might never be sated, and Castiel can’t wait to spend the rest of his life figuring out if it ever can be. With the way Dean is begging right now, with a mumbled mantra of _fuck me, alpha,_ Cas imagines his thirst might never be quenched. 

When he slides inside of Dean, it should be like every other time they’ve done this—immediately hot and tight and _too much_ and _not enough._ And it is like that, but also much more: it’s noticing the shade of pink Dean’s lips are as he parts them; the gleam of his eyes; the flurry of his lashes as he sighs in relief; the feeling of his legs wrapping around Castiel’s waist, tight as a vise, like he’s scared to let Castiel go. After so many days spent together and so much sex, Castiel knows the rhythm Dean prefers, and sets it quickly: _fast, fast, slow, slow, fast, fast,_ and angles his hips up a little, nailing Dean’s prostate with every thrust. 

“Cas! C-Cas, fuck, I’m gonna…” 

Castiel kisses Dean through his first orgasm, their stomachs painted white by the time he pulls apart. Once he’s finished, his fist immediately wraps around Dean’s partially hard dick, and the omega writhes with sensitivity, but Castiel keeps pounding into him, timing his hand with his thrusts. When Dean is hard again, Castiel pulls out and flips him on his belly, palming his gorgeous ass and muttering compliments against his skin. He sucks on Dean’s scent gland, lips brushing a handful of hickies along the way, and Dean’s back curves off the bed with pleasure. 

“You are magnificent, Dean,” Castiel whispers reverently. “My gorgeous omega. My perfect mate.”

“Alpha…” Dean wiggles his ass against Dean’s cock, seeking friction. “Knot me! Claim me, please, Cas, _please!”_

“With pleasure,” Castiel growls, lining up his rock-hard dick and plunging it into Dean’s warm and welcoming hole. He sets a bruising pace this time, one hand gripping Dean’s shoulder like an anchor, the other hand against the mattress—scrambling for purchase as he fucks him hard and fast. 

“I love you,” he breathes, sweat on his forehead now and lips brushing Dean’s ear, and then his mouth finds the scent gland again. And then he does it.

He _bites._

Castiel feels a surge of warmth flooding his veins, sparkling and tingling like electricity, and then he’s flying—the taste of Dean’s blood is on his lips but he keeps fucking into him, licking over the wound like a cat inhaling catnip. Instantly he hears Dean scream beneath him, then come all over the mattress, shouting Cas’ name as he thrashes beneath him. 

“So good, Cas, feels so good,” Dean slurs, face planted into the mattress. “Never…never knew it would feel so good with you…” Dean’s scent has changed completely now, a combination of Castiel’s earthy tones and Dean’s sweet spices, and it’s intoxicating in every possible way. His knot catches with a particularly aggressive thrust and then the mattress is suddenly falling, the bedframe around them splintering in half as Castiel empties himself inside Dean. 

_Dean, his mate._

“Jesus fuck,” Dean mutters, apparently having his third orgasm as Castiel keeps coming, already feeling aroused again at the thought of Dean’s hole seeping wet. Dean whimpers and milks his knot, breath laborious and loud, and then they’re silent for a while, too exhausted to speak. Castiel is a dead weight against Dean’s back, still sucking on the mating bite with lazy kisses, until Dean says, “Babe, you’re, uh, kinda crushing me.”

Castiel mutters out an apology and turns Dean on his side, both of them wincing as the knot makes another wave of pleasure ripple through them. Castiel puts his hand on Dean’s hip, covering him from behind, head to toe. Dean will never admit how much he loves cuddling, but his alpha knows, and _that’s all that matters,_ Castiel thinks, smiling and kissing the back of his temple.

“I love you,” Dean says sleepily.

“And I you,” Castiel replies, nuzzling into his mate and scenting him again and again.

“I can’t believe we broke Rufus’s bed.”

Castiel chuckles happily, and Dean soon follows suit. “I can. I’m surprised we didn’t break it days ago.” Dean hums in agreement, and Castiel adds, “We should buy this cabin from him. There are a lot of good memories here to preserve…” He shoves his hips forward and they both moan in unison, the knot still pulsing around the tight channel inside of Dean. “And relive.”

“Mmm, that’s an understatement,” Dean murmurs, bringing Castiel’s hands to his lips. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you say _we_ should buy the cabin. We’re mated for all of ten minutes, and what? Now I’m co-signing my name on all your checks?”

Castiel shrugs and laughs softly. “You know, in a lot of states…including Kansas…mating bites can be used as proof of marriage without a ceremony taking place.”

Even though Cas can’t see his face, he can hear the smile in Dean’s voice when he replies, “Is that so?” 

“It is,” Castiel says simply. 

“Huh.” After a beat of silence, the omega adds, “Dean Novak…sounds like a yuppy, doesn’t it? With a 401k and a really pretentious haircut.” 

They laugh, the movement shuffling the mattress and causing a piece of the broken headboard to fall to the floor. Castiel takes a deep breath.

“I was more thinking Castiel Winchester,” the alpha says quietly, “if you’ll have me, of course.”

Dean releases a small gasp of surprise, then throws his head back, kissing Castiel passionately for a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left, then the epilogue. We’ll miss these boys so much! 💔


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday, friends! We're oh so glad you enjoyed the previous chapter. These boys deserved some fluff and smut—y'all deserved it too—and we're happy to deliver!
> 
> Speaking of, this chapter ties up some loose ends and hopefully answers a few questions. There is also a quick content warning at the chapter's end.
> 
> xoxo,  
> CB & TCB

The trees are beginning to change color, summer heat giving way to a cool autumn breeze. Dean pulls the Impala behind the familiar estate, cutting the engine off and looking across his mate and toward the looming house.

“What are the chances we get in there without everyone interrogating me?” he asks.

“I don’t think even I can protect you from that.” Castiel grins at him, arm stretched across the top of the seat, thumb rubbing over the curve of his shoulder. They’ve gone days now in near constant contact. Dean isn’t sure if it’s from the lingering heat or their weeks apart, but neither of them can stand to keep their hands off each other.

“Some white knight you are,” Dean grumbles petulantly.

“Last time I checked, you weren’t a damsel in distress…and our family is hardly a terrifying villain to be saved from.” Castiel opens the car door and Dean can see shuffling in the house. Dean scoffs, hopping out of the car and hoisting a duffel bag on his shoulder. He can’t help but worry what his found family is going to think—about Roman, about his running, them _mating_.

“Are they mad at me?” he asks, as Castiel comes around to grab his own expensive-looking suitcase. The sight of it by his torn and patched duffel is a little too on the nose for his taste.

“They missed you,” Castiel assures him, planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. Dean grumbles and follows the alpha toward the house.

He’s barely through the door before a small frame and blonde hair barrels into him. 

“Welcome home, you big dummy.” Jo laughs, slapping him hard on the back before letting him go. He smiles at her, his cheeks heating a little as he feels a hard smack to the back of his head.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” Ellen scolds, before pulling him down for a hug as well. Missouri, Kevin, Joshua, Charlie, Alfie, and even Gabriel all greet him with hugs and slaps on the back. He finally catches a glimpse of Sam and Cas standing off to the side, heads tipped down in conversation. Sam glances up at him and gives him a relieved look.

“The ring!” Charlie squeals, suddenly clutching at his hand. It feels so natural that Dean had almost forgotten about it. He’d decided to keep his flannel collar up, unsure of what the others would think if they saw the fresh bite. He was hoping to have a chance to talk to Sam first, but he’d forgotten about the ring…

Judging by the knowing smirk on his alpha’s face, it had not slipped _his_ mind.

“Pay up, blondie,” Gabriel quips, holding out his hand to Jo, who scowls and puts a twenty-dollar bill in his hand.

“You bet on us?” Dean demands, frowning at the pair.

“Relax, Deano. I was betting on you two lovebirds having zero restraint.” Gabriel winks at him. Dean hates the heat that brings to his cheeks, which only embarrasses him more. “So guess we're having a wedding? This one’s already the blushing bride.” Gabriel laughs at his own joke, but Dean’s look quickly shuts him up.

“Can I be a bridesmaid?” Charlie throws her hand up.

“Can I _not_ be a bridesmaid?” Jo rolls her eyes conspiratorially at Dean.

“We are not having some big elaborate wedding,” Dean waves his hands to try and stop this runaway train in its tracks. “And this was only meant to be a promise ring.”

“Dude, weddings are the best places to get with the ladies,” Charlie says, ignoring Dean’s last comment and wiggling her eyebrows. Gabriel laughs, giving her a high five.

“Is that really true?” Alfie whispers nervously to Charlie, who just tosses him a wink.

“I assume we will have it at the house? It shouldn’t take long to pull together. I can look into some different dates for you both.” 

Missouri nods, like that decision is made, and Dean feels his heart rate pick up as the house erupts into chatter about plans for a wedding. “It was just a promise ring,” Dean grumps, crossing his arms again while his family waves his complaint off. Ellen is already discussing food options and decorations with Joshua and Missouri.

Castiel manages to weave his way back to Dean’s side, giving him an apologetic look. “Guess we're having a wedding?”

Dean raises both brows at his mate, because one just isn’t enough for this. “We’re already mated… Do we really _need_ a wedding?”

It's so fast that Dean almost misses it, but there's a sad, disappointed frown that crosses his alpha’s face before he bends to kiss Dean. “Not if you don’t want one, Dean,” he whispers softly in his mate's ear.

Dean sighs, looking up at Castiel's too-blue eyes. “You want this, Cas?”

Castiel hesitates a moment, evidently picking through possible answers. “If you want it, then yes. I would love to marry you in front of all our family and friends, and declare that you are my partner—my mate for the rest of our lives together.”

“God, you're such a sap.” He tips his head back with a dramatic roll of his eyes, but he can’t hide the smile at his mate’s words. “Alright Cas, we can have a small wedding. At home—nothing extravagant.” He would’ve been happy simply going to the courthouse and then heading out for burgers after. It's just paperwork to Dean… Castiel is already his. They belong to each other, and a piece of paper won’t change that.

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel scent is thick and happy in the air, making it hard for Dean to stay annoyed at his well-meaning but pushy family.

He catches sight of Sam standing awkwardly by the doorway before he slips out of the room. He gives Castiel’s arm a quick squeeze and whispers, “Cover me.” He ducks past his yammering family and moves to find his brother. He doesn’t need to search far—Sam is waiting for him in the front hall, pulling him in for a bear hug. Dean wonders if Sam has had another growth spurt.

“I’m really happy for you, Dean.” Sam’s voice cracks a little, and he isn’t sure if it's emotion or puberty, but for once he doesn’t call his brother on it.

“’Bout that…guess we should talk.” Dean nods to the half-ajar library door. Sam follows him in, and he looks around at the now familiar space. Seems like such a short time to have so many emotions tied to one room. He’s felt a lot of pain in this room, but a lot of joy too.

“So…you and Cas?” Sam flops down on the overstuffed couch, long limbs splayed out.

Dean takes the cushy reading chair, and can’t resist bouncing nervously a second before replying. “Yeah, me and Cas. You okay with that?” He doesn’t know where the prickle of nerves comes from—Sam has always been supportive of his relationship with Castiel.

“I can’t smell him on you anymore…the other alpha,” Sam says matter of factly. “You smell really happy, Dean.” His little brother gives him a reassuring smile. “It was your choice, though? You didn’t do it because you thought you had to?” Worry tinges his brother's voice.

“No, Sammy, it's what I wanted…what I’ve wanted for a long time now.” He finally feels like he’s ended up where he belongs.

“Guess I’m the last Winchester standing,” Sam huffs, his smile a mix of joy and just a bit sad.

“Well, actually…how do you feel about adding a third Winchester to the family?” He grins at the shocked look on Sam’s face.

“He’s really gonna take your name?”

Dean nods. “Yup, poor lovesick alpha is just that gone on me.” He wiggles his brows, making Sam bark a laugh.

“Always thought he’d make a good Winchester. He’s stubborn enough,” Sam says with a smile.

“So I talked with Cas on the ride back here. I figure you can keep the suite to yourself, since I plan to move into Cas’s room—” Sam wolf whistles, and Dean reaches over to smack his leg. “I guess I already know the answer now, you little shit, but…you cool with staying here? Like, for good?”

Sam waits a second, looking at Dean like he’s trying to find words but nothing is coming out. 

“Sam? What’s up?”

“Is there—” He starts and stops. “No, it’s dumb… Forget it.” Sam’s arms cross and he sounds a bit defensive, and now there's no way Dean is backing down.

“Spit it out, Sam. I got your back.” Dean figures Sam doesn’t need to hear that anymore, but maybe he was wrong judging by the relaxed drop of his shoulders.

“Can I maybe stay in a different room?”

Dean frowns a minute, unsure of what prompted this. Sam loved their suite when they moved in, and now he would have it all to himself—every teenager's dream. “What's wrong with the suite?”

“I just can’t sleep very well in it ever since…” Sam trails off, and it takes Dean a moment to put it together. Sam doesn’t feel safe in there, not after Lucifer and his cronies. He also assumes that, like himself, Sam isn’t used to sleeping all alone. He’s had his big brother right there his whole life. He isn’t gonna call Sam out on any of these things, though, seeing as his brother's Winchester pride is already taking a hit. “I talked with Kevin, and he’s moving into the suite down the hall…said he hates the commute…and anyways, I could take the other room with him,” Sam rambles out in one long breath.

He breathes a sigh of relief that Sam still feels safe in this house, even if not in _that_ suite. “No problemo, Sam. But you gotta move all your shit yourself.” He wags a big brother finger at him, knowing full well he’ll help him move his meager belongings if he asks.

“Deal.” Sam looks relieved as he leans back against the couch. “I really am glad you and Cas figured things out. You're good together.”

“Thanks, Sammy.” He leans over to ruffle his brother's hair, and receives a scowl before they both head out to find the family.

“So…guess you're gonna need a best man.” Sam bumps into his shoulder.

“Yeah… Think Kevin would say yes?” He smirks, nearly stumbling as Sam shoves at him.

“Jerk,” Sam says with a scowl.

“Hey, think they have suits in moose sizes?” Dean teases some more, just so he can see the scowling smile on his brother's face.

He finds Castiel with both bags in his arms, heading for the west wing. 

“Wait up, old man,” he calls, pating Sam on the shoulder and jogging to help Cas before he gives himself a hernia.

“I am perfectly capable of carrying two bags up the stairs,” Castiel grumbles, as he tries to settle the duffel on his shoulder.

“Uh huh, come on, don’t be stubborn,” Dean teases, reaching for the suitcase.

“If I can carry you up the stairs, I can manage the luggage. Why don’t you get the door?” Castiel huffs a breath out and starts up toward the master bedroom.

“You becoming some macho alpha on me now?” Dean rolls his eyes and follows his mate.

“Hardly—still the bookworm you know and love. I have the glasses to prove it.” Castiel winks at him.

“And the library from _Beauty and the Beast_ ,” Dean chuckles.

“Hardly that large,” his alpha grunts, reaching the top of the stairs. Dean grabs the door and Castiel drops the bags, looking as relieved as Dean feels to be left alone again.

“So, where did all the townsfolk go?” Dean asks, as he flops starfished out on the bed and breathes in the smell of mate and home.

“Ellen kicked everyone out till dinner time. She’s making a big spaghetti dinner with chicken parm to celebrate us being home.” Castiel continues talking as he walks into his enormous closet. “I can get rid of most of these things,” he calls, looking over his plethora of grey and navy suits.

“I don’t need much space,” Dean answers, stretching out across the fluffy comforter. Man, this bed is so much better than the one they broke in the cabin. He snatches up one of Castiel’s pillows and takes in a long, deep breath, enjoying just being surrounded by his alpha’s scent. He catches a faint whiff of cinnamon, and blinks, pulling at scrape of fabric tucked under the sheets.

“It won’t be any trouble. I can clear out this whole side for you. Maybe we can go shopping and get you some new flannels, with winter coming soon,” Cas continues talking to him from the closet, but Dean isn’t listening.

He holds the familiar fabric in his hands, the black faded to a dark grey from use, and the image of Zeppelin torn in half. There are a few spots of blood on it—he thinks from his own knuckles when Lucifer tied his hands. He had forgotten to mourn the loss of his favorite shirt with everything else that had happened that day. He can’t see why Cas kept it…it's well beyond repair.

“I could see about putting in more shelves, but—” Castiel halts, looking at Dean now sitting cross legged on the bed, holding the tattered remains of his shirt. He sniffs it, and can smell their mingled scents there.

“You kept this?” he asks, meeting his alpha’s concerned eyes.

Castiel looks stricken, as if the sight of the shirt is a threat to Dean somehow. “I’m sorry, Dean, I didn’t think to get rid of that before you could see it.” 

Dean looks at it, and all he can think about that day was that they didn’t beat him. He was stronger than any of them thought he was, and his shirt may have lost the battle, but _he_ still won. He imagines the pain Castiel felt with Dean gone all those weeks. How much he must have been hurting while Dean figured his shit out. Cas waited for him, and he never gave up on Dean either. Suddenly the sweatshirt Castiel leant him makes a lot more sense. He must have known that the t-shirt's scent was soothing to him and wanted Dean to have that, too.

“I’m sorry, Cas,” he whispers, feeling some of that ache in his chest returning at the thought of his alpha alone and hurting.

Cas is suddenly at his side, pulling himself on the bed next to Dean, legs crossed and knees bumping. Cas holds out his hand palm up, an offering, and Dean laces his fingers into place, immediately feeling the relief of their bond. Cas is here. Dean is here. And they aren’t going anywhere without each other.

“We’re okay now, my omega,” Castiel soothes, and Dean lets his head tip till it rests on his shoulder, his hair tickling the alpha’s stubble. “I don’t want us to dwell on the past. I want us to build a future.”

Dean hums contentedly while his thumb rubs a soft circle on his alpha’s hand. “What do you see in that future? Besides our family driving us nuts with the wedding.”

Castiel chuckles. “Hmm, I have some ideas. I see you registering for classes, finding something you love to do, probably saving the world. I can take a step back from big business, focus on projects I’m passionate about with business partners I don’t feel the urge to murder.” Dean barks a small laugh at that. “Find ways to make you laugh,” Castiel adds with a grin. He hesitates, then his voice comes softer. “Maybe even…have children?”

Dean sits up then, looking at his alpha. They hadn’t really discussed the idea of kids—something that always terrified Dean a little. He always felt he could just barely keep his and Sam’s heads above water, so how could ever handle having a child? But he can see it now, kids with sandy brown hair and deep blue eyes running across the lawn, Castiel racing after them. Dean’s never been sure he wanted kids, but looking over at his alpha, he realizes he wants _their_ kids. It's scary as fuck, but Cas makes him feel brave, makes him feel like he can have all those things.

“Okay, Cas.” He smiles, pulling their joined hands up so he can plant a kiss there.

“Really?” Castiel’s eyes grow huge, and Dean sees the same nerves and fear reflected back there. All it does, though, is make Dean more sure. They can do just about anything if they just stick together.

“Why the hell not?” he answers, and lets out a grunt as his alpha tackles him to the bed—kissing him all over his face, flattening him to the bed, and laughing.

“Hey, we aren’t starting on the kids yet, alright? So keep it in your pants.” Dean laughs as Castiel grips him tight in his arms. Despite what he said, just the press of their bodies has Dean tightening in his jeans.

“Dinner time!” Charlie’s voice echos up the stairs at them. Castiel raises up on his elbows, and looks down at Dean with such adoration that it makes him squirm.

“Alright, Casanova, let’s go. I’m starved.” With a reluctant sigh and some readjusting of their jeans, they both go hand in hand, following the growing sound of their gathered friends and family at the dinner table.

***

A few days later, Castiel leans his elbows on the kitchen table, a cup of coffee tucked in his hands. He’s wearing dark jeans and a light sweater, one of his more casual ensembles, trying to get used to not putting on a suit every morning. 

“Hot dogs and hamburgers?” Ellen asks, scribbling away in a spiral-bound notebook.

“Just hamburgers,” Castiel clarifies, then adds, “And lots of toppings. Dean will want a bacon cheeseburger.”

“And what your mate wants, he gets?” Missouri says teasingly, sitting on the other side of Ellen and writing her own notes down.

“Been like that since day one,” Ellen adds, grinning now. “Remember? It was all ‘let’s make sure _Dean_ is settled in.’ ‘Do you think _Dean_ is happy here?’ ‘What can I do to make _Dean_ more comfortable?’”

“Oh, hardly,” Castiel protests, rolling his eyes and scoffing at their goodnatured mocking. 

“Yeah yeah. Maybe you can fool your boy, but we’ve known you for years, honey,” Missouri says matter-of-factly. “You went from loner to lovesick in a few weeks’ time.”

As Ellen agrees with that assessment, Castiel has a momentary flash of who he was before he met Dean: a cutthroat businessman with a traumatic past, stubborn and lonely, even cold and unfeeling at times. What a difference it makes, finding your true mate. Dean brings out his best qualities, makes him feel like his life means something. 

“Can we focus?” he asks, a slightly impatient edge to his voice. Dean and Castiel have put up with nonstop teasing from their family all week long, and he wants to remind everyone that they can’t tell him anything he doesn’t already know. He’s in love with Dean, utterly and completely, and never intends to be separated from him again. 

“Why isn’t bridezilla here, givin’ his two cents?” Ellen jokes. The question, and the nickname, are ironic—Dean couldn’t be farther from a demanding bride. In fact, it seems to be accepted as fact that Dean is only agreeing to this because Castiel deeply wants it, meaning the alpha has become the point person in all things wedding-related. Cas appreciates how they subvert stereotypes like this often—Dean being the less romantic, more practical of the pair. The omega’s skillset is more traditionally mascline than Castiel’s, who can’t change a tire but can negotiate the details of a contract with his eyes closed. They’re an unlikely couple in a lot of ways, age gap included, and challenge everything society expects of a mated pair. But Castiel wouldn’t have it any other way. He wouldn’t have _Dean_ any other way.

“You know Dean doesn’t give two licks about this wedding, as long as he gets to call Castiel his husband by the end of it,” Missouri answers with a wink. Castiel smiles, his earlier impatience fading away, and has the sudden urge to kiss Dean—but his omega is still upstairs, sleeping away in their bed after a particularly robust night of lovemaking. Castiel had found it difficult to drag himself away, but Ellen and Missouri would’ve poked fun at him for weeks if he had canceled their meeting on account of early-morning cuddling. 

Jo comes in a few minutes later, disrupting their discussion of various pie flavors (Castiel knows better than to even suggest a wedding cake instead of a wedding _pie_ ). 

“Sorry to interrupt,” the blonde alpha begins, looking a little rumpled and unkempt, like she rolled out of bed and put on the first clothes she found, “but Cas—have you heard the news?”

Castiel’s blood runs cold, wondering what sort of horrible fate is befalling them now. Gabriel and Kali had flown back to Las Vegas late last night, promising to come back for the wedding—had their plane not landed safely? It’s been over a week since Castiel beat Roman to a bloody pulp in his downtown office, so it seems unlikely he’d try and press charges now, but perhaps Eve hadn’t truly deleted the footage? Or maybe there’s a legal issue with his reselling of the Winchester properties, or the absolution of Dean’s white-collar contract, or—

“Hey, stop freaking out,” Jo interrupts, wrinkling her nose. “You’re like, drenching me in ‘panicked-alpha’ right now.”

Castiel feels a flash of momentary guilt—he and Dean decided to stop using scent blockers at home, since scenting each other as mates is practically compulsory—but he can’t focus on that issue right now, not if there’s something more pressing going on. Jo grabs him by the shoulder and drags him toward the living room, the non-formal one with a large television and an L-shaped couch. 

“What’s this about, Joanna Beth?” Ellen asks her daughter warily, but Jo doesn’t answer, just grabs the remote and turns it on the local news. The screen is filled with flashes of faces, faces Castiel recognizes, faces he _hates_. 

_“It’s not just Christopher Alastair indicted with a half-dozen charges of omega sex trafficking,"_ the news anchor says plainly, as footage appears of Alastair being handcuffed and pushed into a police cruiser, “ _but many of his business associates have also been arrested after allegedly contributing their own money knowingly to fund these crimes, as well as participating in various criminal events. Alleged co-conspirators Dick Roman, Abaddon Huffman, and Lilith Boecher are currently in custody. Others are evidently evading warrants out for their arrest, including Lucifer Novak, Raphael Barnes, and Azazel MacCabe.”_

Castiel blinks, mouth hanging open as the news continues, going into more depth about the charges leveled against each alpha. He knows it’s unlikely that they’ll catch Lucifer, Raphael, and Azazel—thanks to Castiel’s own hand in banishing them—but he knows where they are because of Charlie’s GPS technology, so perhaps he should tip off the police. It’s satisfying enough, though, seeing Alastair and Abaddon and Lilith in custody…but Dick Roman? _Finally_ behind bars where he belongs? It’s more than Castiel ever hoped for.

_“About these accusations, Governor Jody Mills published a series of tweets this morning: ‘My heart goes out to every person, every family, and above all, every omega whose life was destroyed by these disgusting individuals. To my fellow Americans who believe omega sex trafficking is a thing of the past, think again. We owe our citizens protection and support, which comes from improved legislation, not empty promises or well-intentioned prayers. With my proposed Omega Civil Rights Act, we hope to eradicate a system that allows the systemic and misogynistic oppression, as well as the rampant sexual abuse, of omegas in the state of Kansas’…”_

Castiel loses track of what the news anchor says next, because Dean is coming down the staircase, Castiel’s bathrobe tossed over his bare chest. His eyes are barely open, he’s scrubbing a hand over his face sleepily, and holding Castiel’s phone. 

“Babe, your phone’s been ringing off the damn hook,” he complains grumpily, thrusting it into Castiel’s outstretched hand. He blinks suddenly, looking at the small group as they stare, mouths hanging open, at the television. “Uh, what’s going on?”

“All those bastards are getting dragged to hell,” Ellen mutters in response, “that’s what’s going on.”

Dean stares at the screen, his mouth gaping open. Castiel stands beside him, tucking a hand to Dean’s lower back, letting his scent soothe Dean as he takes in the news. When Roman is shown on the broadcast against, Dean shivers, his breathing accelerating. They watch the news together for a few moments in silence. 

“You okay?” Castiel eventually whispers in his ear.

“Yeah, just thinking…” Dean swallows, his gaze nearly burning a hole into the TV screen. He lowers his voice down to a whisper, as the group discussion continues without them. “Do you remember how Roman was so obsessed with finding out if I was a virgin—if I’d ever taken a knot before? And how he wrote in the contract that you and I could never be together, which was fucking suspicious on so many levels. Why would he care so much, y’know? Do you think…” Dean scratches the back of his neck, looking unsettled. “Cas, was he going to…?”

The realization of what Dean is implying hits Castiel like a punch to the gut. 

“He had other plans for you,” Castiel says in a hushed tone. Of course, Roman always threatened to rape Dean himself—he had been upfront about that since day one—but if he was spending and receiving money in seedy sextrafficking circles, it seems entirely possible that _he_ never intended to assault the omega. Instead, he could have sold someone as beautiful and untarnished as Dean to the highest bidder…and he could’ve made quite the profit off him, too. 

Rage fills Castiel core, hands shaking at his sides at the thought of what pain Dean could be experiencing right now—had Castiel not intervened on a _whim_. What if he hadn’t? What if his true mate had gone with Dick Roman after all, and been subjected to being sold like a human sex toy? 

“I should’ve killed him when I had the chance,” Castiel growls.

“No, Cas, c’mon. Then you’d be in jail, remember?” Dean puts his hands on Castiel’s chest, sliding up to his shoulders before cupping his chin. “Y’know, the place with no wifi, no coffee, and…oh yeah…no _me_. No us.” 

Castiel gives him a small, strained smile, touching his hands and gripping them tightly. “I apologize, Dean, I know this isn’t about me. I’m just so sorry for all the things that happened to you, and all the things that _could have_ happened…”

“Shh…” Dean leans forward, resting his forehead and Castiel’s, before closing the space between them and kissing him softly. The scent of mate, of comfort and safety swirls around them with pleasing notes of spice and cinnamon. “I dunno about you, but I’m tired of looking backwards, alright? I just wanna find a way to make things better for people like me, so omegas like Sam won’t face all this bullshit.” He exhales slowly, then gives Castiel another peck to the lips. “And I wanna be with you, Cas, but not in the ‘yearly conjugal visit’ kinda way. In the everyday, forever way.”

Castiel’s smile is more genuine this time, and he knows Dean is right—flying off the handle because of hunches and what-ifs won’t do them any good. What’s important now is that so many despicable alphas are being held accountable for their crimes, and maybe this time, Jody can usher in some real legislative change. With a final kiss, Dean goes to wake up Sam and tell him the news. By now, more people are sitting in the living room, watching the news unfold: not only Missouri, Jo, and Ellen, but now Kevin and Charlie. As they watch more interviews, more speculation from the news anchors, something about all this is unsettling to Castiel. From the list of incriminated alphas with supported Alastair, someone significant seems to be missing.

“Charlie,” he whispers, pulling the beta aside during a commercial break, “did you ever figure out who sent me that photo? The one of Dean…?” He hates talking about, hates acknowledging the forced bite and the scar on Dean’s scent gland. But he has a feeling all the pieces are about to come together, and he needs this information.

Charlie shakes her head with a frown, her red hair swinging from side to side. “Still trying, sorry, Cas. Whoever sent it is either a bigger genius than me, or has _loads_ of money. I’ve never been stumped like this before.”

Castil frowns, but shakes his head understandably. A moment later, he slips out of the room when no one is looking, heading for his office. He has no intention of working today—something that would’ve been unheard of this time last year—but he needs some privacy for what he has to do next. 

He slips his phone out of his pocket, checking his notifications. Dean had been right—he’s missed calls and texts from Gabriel, and other business associates who have undoubtedly seen the news. He checks his work landline, too, and there are a slew of unknown numbers he’s assuming are various news outlets. He reminds himself to discuss some heightened security with Jo later in the day. 

After an in-depth scan of all his missed calls, though, his suspicions are all but confirmed. He scrolls through his contact list, hits the call button, abruptly greets the receptionist, and is quickly patched through. 

“Hello, darling,” Crowley begins in a smooth voice. “Watching the news, I presume?”

“Yes. Like everyone else right now, I’m disgusted and angry…” He let’s the statement hang loose for a moment before adding, “But you’re not. Are you?”

“Oh?” Crowley’s voice is carefully neutral now. 

“You’re relieved.” Castiel leans into his computer chair, propping his feet up on the desk, crossed at the ankle. “You sold them all out. And you sent me the photo of Dean to win my favor, to ensure I wouldn’t divulge the memory of you donating money to Alastair’s ‘campaign’…which we both know now might’ve been for his political run, or might’ve been for something much darker.”

Crowley lets out a low chuckle on the other end. “What grand schemes you’ve concocted. Reading one too many paperbacks before bed, Castiel?”

Castiel takes the response for what it is: a deflection. Not a confirmation of his theory, but not a rejection of it, either. Crowley is still playing the game, dancing around the accusation.

“No, too busy I’m afraid. I have a mate to keep me company now,” Castiel says lightly. On the surface, the statement seems benign enough—but the subtext reads: _the picture was of use to me. It reunited me with Dean._

“Well, sounds like congratulations are in order.” After a pause, Crowley adds, “As to your earlier theory, what’s your next step? Posting a conspiracy theory blog? Calling TMZ with the Novak exclusive?”

Castiel inhales slowly, thinking over his options. “It’s Winchester now, actually. But no, I’m prepared to let my theory stay a theory. Because, for all your innate selfishness, I don’t believe you participated in what the others did. You knew it was going on, you knew it made your associates rich, but you turned a blind eye like you always do. Perhaps that makes you more responsible than anyone. Either way, I’m not sure how the opportunity arose for you to come out on top, Crowley, but somehow, you did.” 

“It’s flattering that you think so highly of me, love,” Crowley replies brightly. “Now, is there anything else I can do for you? There’s an intimidating amount of paperwork on my desk.”

Castiel raises his eyes to the ceiling, thinking of the one question burning in his stomach. “Can you give me one straight answer?”

“Yes. No. Over my dead body,” Crowley responds dryly. 

“Did Roman want Dean’s contract so he could sell him?” Cas asks in a rushed tone, voice breaking on the last syllable. 

When Crowley speaks again, his voice is low and sympathetic, with no trace of his earlier amusement. “Oh, Castiel… Do me a favor, and don’t ask for burdens you can’t carry.”

Castiel opens his mouth to protest, but he hears the sound of the call ending, blinking at his phone screen until it turns black.

*** 

Dean shifts and settles back against Castiel’s front, smoothing out the tired pages of his paperback. He feels a hot breath ruffle his hair and smiles, glancing over at the book Castiel has resting on his knee. His alpha’s hand rubs gentle circles against his stomach, fingers sneaking under his henley to tickle his skin. Ever since they discussed the possibility of children he finds Castiel’s hands wandering to his stomach more and more.

He’s still getting used to the idea of it, what it would be like to be pregnant. Male omegas are different than females—they have more trouble delivering with narrow hips and most can’t produce milk. Even with these disadvantages, he knows a male omega in heat is just as fertile as a female. But he knows he isn’t ready yet—he still needs to find his own footing, figure out what he wants to do with his life before he gets himself knocked up. Still, he admits his mind has been going there far more often than thinking about his classes starting in the spring.

It’s been a long day. Even though it’s been a few weeks since the news broke about the omega sex trafficking ring, he’d only just today spent all morning at the precinct giving his deposition. He hadn’t wanted to get involved, wanted to wash his hands of the whole mess. He might not have, had it not been the images of all those omegas being rescued on the TV, poor broken souls… Knowing that could have easily been him, bought and sold and used up. He knew he had to do his part. If that meant testifying to everything those alphas did to him, especially the nonconsensual mating bite Roman forced on him, then that was what he would do. In the end, he thinks the whole thing was far more stressful for his mate. Castiel hadn’t slept the night before, curled around him like a barnacle. He refused to leave Dean alone for a moment in the precinct. 

Dean was grateful to have him there, literally in his corner while he told his story. He knows they don’t need his deposition to put Roman and his buddies away, but it might help get them a harsher sentence. Every year they were in jail and not on the streets was a win in his book. The DA had assured him the deposition video would be enough and he wouldn’t have to actually go to court unless he wanted to.

Tired from the stress of the day, Castiel had suggested hiding in the library for a bit and making a fire, and Dean couldn’t complain. The days are getting chilly and the fire’s warm heat is relaxing. He thumbs at his book, trying to figure a good excuse to sneak away from Cas for a bit. Detaching the alpha without arousing suspicion might be tricky, but he knows Castiel’s Achilles’ heel.

“I’m going to go check on Sam, see if he’s settled.” Dean closes his book, placing it on the table.

“Want me to come with you?” Castiel asks, following Dean’s lead in sitting up. He presses a hand to Castiel’s chest, urging him to lie back again. 

“Stay here, alright? Finish your chapter. I’ll meet you upstairs, okay?” He leans in to plant a soft kiss on his alpha’s parted lips, hushing his protests.

“If you insist,” Castiel huffs, looking a bit out of sorts. Dean gets it—being back in the precinct, to the place where so much pain had happened, brought up bad memories for the both of them. He's hoping his little plan might help ease some of the worry on his alpha’s brow.

“See you soon.” Dean places one more kiss on the top of his head before he heads out to put his plans into action.

He grabs his bag of supplies he had hidden in the security room, checking the library camera to see his mate still engrossed in his book, before heading upstairs. He hurries to set everything up, rolling his eyes at himself and thinking, _do it for Cas_. He paces the room a moment once it’s ready and goes into the bathroom to look himself over. He splashes water on his face and brushes his teeth, stripping down completely before he goes to wait in the middle of the room.

He bounces nervously from foot to foot, hand rubbing his neck at the mating bite to calm himself. It’s an imperfect scar—two sets of teeth leaving their mark. Dean doesn’t mind anymore, thinking of it as his past and his future blending together. He’s overcome a lot to get to this point and he’s ready for the next step.

His head pops up as he hears the door creak, and then the intake of breath. He watches as his alpha’s eyes scan the room. Dean had bought just about every white unscented candle he could find, and now they were all that lit the room in a warm, soft glow. Fresh sheets don the bed, scattered with rose petals he collected from the garden earlier. He even had a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice, and he hoped it was a good one since he had _no_ idea how to choose one himself.

“Dean?” Castiel says softly, with just a bit of wonder in his voice. “You did all this?”

“Do you like it?” Dean asks warily. He’s never been one for romantic gestures, but this is _Cas_. 

“I love it…but why?” Castiel’s head tilts to the side as he watches Dean now, drinking in his naked form.

“I wanted to ask you something.” He rubs a little nervously at his mating mark again before stepping up to his mate and pulling him in close. Castiel’s fingers reach up to card through his hair, and his face is warm and open, giving him the courage to press on. “I know it’s not traditional, and I know it wouldn’t really change anything, not biologically speaking, but I…I want you to wear my mark. I carry your mating bite now and anyone who sees it will know I’m yours.” He licks his lips, staring at those impossibly blue eyes. “If you're on board, I want to bite you, and claim you, so that when anyone sees your neck they’ll know that you belong to me too.”

“Oh, Dean,” Castiel breaths out, nuzzling his face in the crook of Dean’s neck, breathing him in. “I want nothing more, my omega. I’m yours always.”

Dean smiles at the soft words whispered into his neck and knows he made the right choice. His hands move up to the hem of Castiel’s shirt, tugging at it and pulling it up and over his head.

“Why all this, though?” Castiel asks, as he hurries to shuck off his pants and socks and underwear in record speed.

“Because someone once told me a mating should be special—with nice sheets, flowers, candles and shit.” Dean shrugs sheepishly, thinking back on the memory. “I wanted you to have that.”

Castiel shakes his head with a rueful smile. “How did I get so lucky?” his alpha asks, pulling him back in close, their hardening cocks pressing into each other’s hips.

Dean hums happily, rocking forward. “Must’ve been an angel in a past life.”

Castiel begins licking and kissing at his neck, and he feels his skin begin to prickle as his hole clenches in need.

“On the bed, alpha,” Dean orders slowly, walking Castiel backwards.

He grins as his normally composed mate stumbles in his haste to up on the bed. Dean kneels next to him, getting him to lay back on the soft bedding and smoothing his hands over his skin, admiring the summer tan still lingering there.

His smirk is all the warning he gives before he quickly moves to straddle his mate’s chest, facing away from him. He looks over his shoulder, giving his confused mate a little wink before he arches his back and leans, bracing himself to lick at the head of his alpha’s cock. He moans at the salty taste of his mate and rocks back, arching his hips to present his ass and needy hole up as an offering. Without missing a beat, he feels firm hands spread his cheeks and warm, wet tongue licks up his taint and over his hole. He shivers at the feel of it and sucks Castiel down. For all the cat calling in his life he’s only ever sucked one cock, and what a fine cock it is. Hands dig into the soft flesh of his ass, while a talented tongue swirls and licks against him.

“Fuck, baby,” Dean whines, popping of the now fully hard cock to gasp for breath. He dives back down, enjoying the velvety feel of the erection on his tongue. He feels awash in sensation, his mouth stuffed full and his ass begging for more he rocks in place, up and down on the cock, while pressing back into his mate’s talented mouth.

“Taste so good, sweetheart,” Castiel purrs against his skin, and he revels in the needy, breathy sound of him. The burn of the stubble on his soft skin, the grip of his strong hands holding his hips still, the throb of his thick cock splitting his lips, and the knot growing against his hand, all have Dean’s cock hard as nails and bobbing below him.

He can’t take it anymore, popping off Castiel’s cock with a small cry as the alpha spears his tongue into him. “Hnnggggh,” he moans, quickly shifting around his alpha, Castiel’s whimper and tongue chasing after him. He flips around and takes in Cas’ debauched face, pupils blown wide as he licks his lips. He looks so sinful. Dean braces himself over his alpha’s cock, his hole feels desperate to be filled now, and he’d hoped to take things a little slower but the need is too strong to fight. He braces a hand on his mate’s chest and uses the other to guide himself onto his alpha’s cock, sinking down slow and steady, splitting himself open. He wants to break apart for this man, take him all into himself and keep him there.

“Cas!” The name is pulled from his lips as he seats himself. Hands reach up, pulling him down, and they crash their lips together. He can taste his own sweetness on his alpha’s lips, and it's so _dirty sexy good_ that he whimpers, licking into his mouth for more. He rocks back and forth now on Castiel’s cock, the slowly forming knot popping in and out of him, stretching his rim in a delicious burn.

“My perfect omega…so hot, so wet, so tight,” Castiel moans against his lips, and Dean devours it, muffling it as he fucks himself harder now, more urgent.

His mouth moves from Castiel’s lips to nibble at his ear, before they trace and kiss down the long beautiful column of his neck. He finds his mate’s scent gland right where his neck meets his shoulder, and he sucks and licks over it, enjoying the harsh, indecipherable cry of his mate. Castiel’s hips begin fucking up into him, and with one hard thrust, Dean feels the knot locking into place…his body spasming around the large intrusion.

“Mine,” Dean growls, before sinking his teeth into the soft flesh. He tastes the coppery tang of blood and hears the muffled cry of his name echo in the room, and he can’t hold back as he begins coming all over his mate below him. His teeth clamp hard, his every instinct to claim and keep his alpha forever singing through him triumphantly, his shivering body milking Castiel through his orgasm as his own cock gives a few valiant aftershocks.

With some effort he pulls his teeth free, licking his lips, and looks down in the eyes of his mate—the love of his life shining up at him. He lifts a shaky hand to cup his cheek and he feels Cas do the same, long, elegant fingers holding his jaw as they look at each other.

“Yours,” Castiel whispers back to him.

“Mine,” he says again, wanting to shout it from the rooftops. “And I’m yours always, Cas.”

Castiel’s eyes glisten as he smiles at him, and Dean would tease him if not for the tears blurring his own vision. He’s not alone anymore, and neither is Cas. They found their family, found their home in each other, and no one can ever take that from them… 

Finally, they’re free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: mentions of mpreg
> 
> \--
> 
> Enjoyed this story? Well, we're participating in the Fic Facers 2020 auction—all proceeds donated to Random Acts! Basically what this means is, we're offering to write two custom Destiel fics. We'd love to write you something you'd _love_ (or give you some ideas bouncing around in our heads) and help a good cause while we're doing it! The auction runs from June 12-26.
> 
> You can check out our profile and make your bid [here](https://www.juliahouston.com/fic-facers/fic-facers-2018archive/trenchcoatbaby-cbfirestarter-bid-form/?fbclid=IwAR01BLqtfKYYg1iDQQM7YQFsHq22Bx6FDy0nkNXtLYwk6ggm8HI4hRJt5Hw)!
> 
> Next up: the epilogue, and then goodbye.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TCB: Hello friends! Well, here we are…at the epilogue. It’s been such an amazing journey, filled with romance and angst and family and identity. Oh, and don’t forget the smut. (Lots and lots of smut, haha.) CB and I have loved every moment we’ve spent working on this story. We love this universe and we’re sad to leave it! 
> 
> CB: Trying not to get emotional about reaching the end of this journey is an impossible task. I can't believe what a wild ride writing this fic has been and how much fun we had, especially interacting with all of you in the comments. We have been so lucky with such amazing people to share all the fun with. 
> 
> TCB: That is SUCH an understatement. We had so many loyal readers and subscribers to this story while it was still a WIP, which is such an awesome feeling as a writer. You’ve laughed with us, you’ve cried with us, and now you get to say goodbye to these boys…right alongside us. 
> 
> CB: Of course it takes a village to bring a work of fiction to life, and we were gifted with two amazing beta readers and editors,  
> [EllenOfOz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllenOfOz/pseuds/EllenOfOz) and [WaywardJenn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardjenn/pseuds/waywardjenn). Without them to help us sort through everything from plot holes, to grammar, to tagging, and especially the ever important debates around smut logistics, this story wouldn't be nearly as strong. We are endlessly grateful to have had their help and support. They are the two best friends we could have. ❤️
> 
> TCB: Aw, I literally couldn’t have said it better myself! We love you guys, we’re so thankful for each of you, and we hope you enjoy seeing how this story ends.

Castiel wakes from a nightmare feeling clammy, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead. He reaches across the bed but Dean isn’t there, his side of the sheets wrinkled, his pregnancy pillow squished into an odd position. Castiel’s heart rate slows a little, hazy images of Dean’s labor going poorly still at the forefront of his mind. Blinking up at the ceiling, he reminds himself that his mate is supremely healthy for a pregnant omega—and a supremely cranky one, ever since his morning coffee and bacon was traded in for herbal tea and turkey bacon. It’s been a long and challenging and amazing eight months, and Dean’s doctor is confident that everything is on-track. So the thought of delivery going wrong and Dean being gone forever… Well, those are just _dreams_. Terrible, confusing, heart-pounding dreams. 

The alpha stretches and yawns, knowing firsthand that he should give his husband some time to work in the morning. Dean’s probably on the phone with Anna, the supervisor of The Winchester—downtown’s first omega safe house, open and bustling now. Perhaps he’s discussing the details of various cases with Mick Davies, the public defender Castiel knew from his college days, who’s offering legal advice pro bono for those staying at the safe house. Knowing how determined Dean is, it’s also entirely likely he’s in a meeting with Tessa, discussing the details of the upcoming fundraiser for the expansion of omega medical clinics. His husband is quite the philanthropist and advocate now, and as Castiel goes into their small kitchen to pour a cup of coffee, he feels immensely proud of how much his mate has accomplished in five years. 

Castiel sits at the small bistro table in their kitchen, sipping his coffee and scrolling through his messages. He has a few from Sam, sending him the updated flight information, and Castiel forwards it to Alfie. The rest are from Ellen or Missouri, nitpicking over details for Sam’s surprise—and three weeks belated—twenty-first birthday party tonight. He weighs in where he can, but knows those two can throw a party better than anyone else in their family. Besides, Castiel’s main task for the evening will be keeping Dean from getting too depressed that he can’t “properly” celebrate his brother’s “most important birthday”—according to Dean, anyway—by pounding back whiskey at his favorite dive bar. Dean is keeping a calendar in his office, counting down the baby’s due date—thirty-four days—and Castiel joked last week that he wasn’t sure if his husband was more excited for the baby to come, or to be reunited with Jack Daniels. Dean hadn’t found that joke nearly as funny, though, and Castiel soon remembered just how uncomfortable it is to sleep on the sofa. 

He shakes his head ruefully, knowing tensions have been growing high the closer they are to the delivery date. While Dean is understandably nervous about juggling a full-time career with a newborn, Castiel has been fretting about a dozen other things—what if something happens to Dean? What if something happens to the baby? What if Castiel is a terrible father? What if having a child strains their marriage? The alpha has spent the past few months drowning in _what-ifs_ , but he knows it’s his role right now to remain cool and collected, to give Dean some form of stability as they navigate this unknown path together. 

He’s thinking about this, and wondering if he should start hanging decorations in the nursery today or wait for Jo’s help, when he spots someone moving outside the kitchen window. He wrinkles his brow, wondering who would be on this side of the property at eight in the morning. For the past three years they’ve lived in a small cabin on the estate, a five-minute walk from the manor. It’s rare that anyone visits without texting first, though. They’ve maintained such a heated, spontaneous sex life over the years, that unannounced visitors quickly learn to call ahead.

He drops his mug and creeps out of the kitchen, wondering if he should call for Dean, but decides to check on the situation first before bothering him during office hours. He throws open the side door, greeted by the summer sun already rising in the sky, and squints irritably. He follows the path around the back of the cabin, hoping he’s not about to be accosted by a family member when he’s only wearing his boxers. Instead, he sees Dean in a pair of tiny red shorts and oversized t-shirt, his pregnant belly protruding. He’s pushing a wheelbarrow full of fallen branches, and it’s heavy—his chest is rising and falling, sweat glistening on the back of his neck. 

Under normal circumstances, seeing his gorgeous omega in shorts is a very arousing experience. But his _incredibly_ pregnant omega, pushing a heavy wheelbarrow and obviously out of breath? That momentarily kills any shiver of lust coursing through Castiel’s veins. 

“ _Dean_ ,” he admonishes, unable to keep his tone from sounding accusatory. “What in the world are you doing?”

“Uh, what’s it look like?” Dean wipes at his shirt, dirt and grime staining the front. Castiel crosses his arms and takes a step forward. 

“It looks like you’re doing manual labor when we have a perfectly capable gardener on-hand, and you’re _eight_ months pregnant,” Castiel says impatiently. 

“Perfectly capable?” Dean snorts, still sounding a little out of breath. “Cas, Joshua had a freaking hip replacement this year! I’m not gonna let him clean up our yard if I’m ‘perfectly capable’ of doing it myself.”

Castiel’s eyes narrow. “But you’re not, Dean, not right now. You’re not supposed to be—”

“Chill, Cas, you’re worrying for nothing. Tessa said I could do normal levels of activity, remember?”

“You call this _normal_? When’s the last time you pushed a wheelbarrow in eighty degree weather?” Castiel snaps, feeling his temper begin to rise. “This is clearly strenuous activity, Dean.” 

Dean pauses to consider, but only for a moment. He puts his hands on his hips, squaring up to Castiel angrily. “Yeah, well, it’d been years since you fucked me alongside a _huge ass vibrator,_ but somehow you weren’t concerned with ‘strenuous activity’ that night, Cas.”

Castiel has a flash of memory—pushing his cock into Dean’s wet and willing hole, so incredibly tight with the vibrator already inside him. It had felt _amazing,_ and a surge of fresh lust ripples through him just at the thought. He tries to clear his head and maintain his anger, but pondering last weekend’s double penetration isn't exactly helping his cause. 

“I was in a rut,” he says defensively. “And I thought…” He swallows, suddenly more worried than angry. “Was that not okay? Did I hurt you?”

“What? No, you know that was awesome—I came in like two seconds. And the pregnancy hormones have me horny as hell.” Dean pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Listen, that was a bad example. All I’m sayin’ is you gotta let me live my life. It’s exhausting, having you spazz out everytime I try to lift more than a freaking paperclip!” 

“Well it’s exhausting for me, watching you put stress on yourself and the baby,” Castiel says weakly, knowing that he’ll lose this argument like he’s lost the past twenty. When it comes to this, they always reach the same point of frustration, and then he backs down—never able to fully explain his feelings, to admit aloud how scared he is. 

He turns around so Dean doesn’t see his expression, marching slowly back toward the house, his mate’s eyes boring into the back of his head. He shuts the door with a sigh, running a hand over his face and feeling a little shaky. He heads into the only place that calms him down lately, and flips on the lamp of the nursery. The walls are painted a deep maroon, the rocking chair is old antique Bobby gifted them, and Castiel walks to the shelf where he placed a framed photo of Jimmy. He wants his son to grow up knowing who his namesake is, hoping that he’ll inherit Jimmy’s love of life and sense of humor, rather than Castiel’s awkward demeanor and inability to connect. 

He hears the back door open and close, and then Dean is standing in the doorway. Cas doesn’t turn around until his mate has tucked his mouth against Castiel’s scent gland, kissing him lightly and holding him by the hips. 

“What’s really wrong, alpha?” His hands wander across Castiel’s bare chest, touching his collarbones and brushing over his abdomen. 

“Nothing,” Castiel says stiffly, placing the photo back on the shelf. He turns around, giving his mate a forced smile. “I’m sorry I overreacted. I just worry.”

Dean’s gaze is intense, peering into him as if he’s trying to solve a puzzle. “You had another nightmare, huh?”

Castiel is so caught off-guard that his eyes widen. “Another? How did you…?”

Dean tucks a hand under his chin. “You thought I didn’t know?” He shakes his head from side to side. “Cas, I sleep next to you every night. We’re crazy in tune with each other, always have been. I know when you’re having bad dreams.”

Castiel is still thunderstruck, unable to say a word, when Dean adds, “What I can’t figure out is why you haven’t told me.”

Castiel breathes out, glancing away from Dean’s eyes. “Because you’re the one doing the real work, my omega. It’s my job to support you right now, not burden you.”

Dean’s expression changes again, a hard set tightening around his jaw. “Babe, you’re the smartest person I know, okay? But that’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

Castiel opens his mouth to argue when Dean continues. “Thanks for acknowledging that being pregnant is hard, because most of the time it’s no freaking picnic. But we’re a team, alright? Your problems are my problems.”

“I know that,” Castiel replies, though the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes he hasn’t been acting like it. “But this is nothing, Dean, truly. Just nerves—”

Dean pushes him against the wall suddenly, pinning him effectively with his shoulders. Their noses touch, lips lingering near each other, but instead of kissing him, Dean says, “We’re gonna play a game. Go to the bedroom, Cas. Right now.”

Castiel feels a shiver of desire run through him, and he swallows and nods, pulling himself from the wall and crossing the hallway. Dean is quick on his heels, but doesn’t join Castiel in bed. He stands close by, hands on his hips. 

“Here’s how this is gonna go. You’re gonna sit there and talk, okay? And if I feel like you’re being honest with me, I’ll take off one article of clothing.” Dean’s smile is dazzling and proud, and Castiel is suddenly willing to do anything to see that expression stay on his gorgeous omega’s face. 

“So, what are your nightmares about?” Dean asks straightforwardly. Castiel bites his lip and looks away, talking to the floorboards. Dean’s voice is quiet when he asks, “Are they about…?”

The implication hangs heavy, and Castiel shakes his head vehemently. “No, I haven’t had…those dreams in a long time.”

Even after Roman and his associates were locked away in jail, Castiel had an irrational fear that they would somehow escape and head straight for Dean. While they’re all still rightfully imprisoned—including his brother, Raphael, and Azazel, who the police located all those years ago thanks to the anonymous help of Charlie’s GPS tracker—the constant trepidation was difficult to squash. Despite the old handmade dreamcatcher still hanging near their bed, the nightmares continued to haunt Castiel for over two years. It was only through a combination of therapy, meditation, and a lot of truthful conversations with his mate, that Castiel was finally able to banish that particular fear away. 

“Okay, good,” Dean says, sighing in relief. “So, the new nightmares are about…?” 

“The delivery,” Castiel answers vaguely, and Dean _tsks tsks_. 

“C’mon, alpha. Details. That’s not even juicy enough for me to take my shoes off for.”

Castiel chuckles a little, feeling some of the tension in his chest unraveling. “In most of the dreams, there are complications. Sometimes you go into labor early, sometimes it’s late. We’ve had the baby at the hospital, the cabin, the manor…even the Impala once.” Dean smiles a little at the thought, kicks his shoes and socks off, and gives him a thumbs-up. The gesture gives Castiel the strength to continue. “But every time, Dean, you end up dying and I…I fall apart.”

Dean frowns but nods, encouraging Castiel to keep going.

“I’ve read so many articles, books, websites… I even called Tessa once, and we talked for half an hour.” Dean’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, guaranteeing he’ll have questions about that later, but he doesn’t interrupt now. “But no amount of logic or reason can make the dreams stop.”

Dean takes a step closer, holding the edge of his t-shirt and stripping it slowly. He tosses it away as Castiel admires the smooth, round belly, bringing his hands to Dean’s skin and kissing his stomach. Something about the skin-to-skin contact with his pregnant mate soothes him immensely, and his eyes flutter closed. He loves touching Dean’s pregnant stomach, an apparent “kink” that his mate has teased him about relentlessly. 

“I know you’re not Jimmy. I know you’re strong and healthy and full of life. I know you have an incredible future ahead of you, not only as a parent, but as someone who’s helping to change the world. But if something goes wrong and I lose you, I…” His voice breaks and Dean kicks off his drawstring shorts, his boxers along with it, and then he’s fully naked and straddling Castiel’s lap. He surges up to kiss Castiel’s forehead, just as the alpha whispers, “I would never recover, Dean. You’re my whole world.”

“Cas…” Large belly between them, Dean still somehow manages to touch their foreheads together, eyes closed. “Nothing’s gonna happen.”

“You don’t know that,” Castiel mutters, voice shaking. 

“Yeah, I do. I can feel this baby inside of me, and I know it’s going to be fine. Even with the heartburn, and peeing every damn hour, and forcing down so much rabbit food that I wanna hurl, I just have this feeling…that it’s all gonna work out. We’re gonna bring our own Jimmy into the world, babe, and it’ll be fine. Better than fine, actually.” With some effort Dean brushes their lips together, and Castiel’s arms tighten around his back, drawing the omega in closer. Or as close as he can be, really, with the baby belly between them. “It’ll be fucking _awesome_.”

“You really think so?” Castiel asks, feeling a little shy because of how vulnerable this conversation has made him.

“I know so.” Dean’s tongue pries between his lips, slipping into his mouth. His words, his scent, his presence fill Castiel up—his heart swelling as he processes it all. 

“Fuck, I miss coffee,” Dean whines absurdly, diving in for another taste of Castiel’s lips. The alpha chuckles, allowing Dean to chase the taste of coffee beans, kissing him until their lips are chapped and puffy. 

“I love you,” Castiel says between kisses, realizing that he feels lighter than he has in months now that he’s finally told Dean how he’s feeling. 

“I know.” Dean grins, craning his head down and sucking on Castiel’s scent gland with an overeager mouth. Castiel winces from the pain and pleasure of it, his cock stirring from inside his boxers. 

“I thought we agreed you couldn’t ‘Hans Solo’ me in bed,” Castiel complains, and Dean snorts, pulling away to look into his alpha’s eyes. 

“Jesus, Cas, it’s _Han_ Solo. There’s no ‘S,’ man.” He chuckles, running his fingers through Castiel’s hair. “I swear, it’s like you weren’t even paying attention during _The Empire Strikes Back._ ” 

“Oh, you mean the movie you forced me to watch with Charlie and Gilda…and then, halfway through, slipped a hand underneath the blanket and into my pants?” Dean grins wickedly and Castiel laughs. Despite some intense embarrassment during and after the fact, thanks to some strong scent blockers and an excellent poker face, the other couple never noticed how handsy his newly pregnant omega had gotten that evening. At least, that’s what he _tells_ himself in order to look Charlie in the eye.

“Yeah, _that_ one,” Dean says with a mischievous glint in his eye. He begins to rub his bare ass against Castiel’s erection, and the friction on top of the push of Dean’s belly, has the alpha biting back a moan. “No idea why you couldn’t keep your focus, Cas.” 

Castiel shakes his head, grinning too, hands on Dean’s hips. “You are such a menace, omega.”

“Didn’t hear you complainin’ at the time, alpha,” Dean says cheekily. 

Castiel flips them carefully, placing Dean on his back as the alpha hovers between his knees. He slips off his boxers and dives in for another kiss, then travels down to Dean’s neck, his collarbones, his nipples. They’ve become even more sensitive during the pregnancy, and Dean’s spine curls upwards, his erection throbbing against Castiel’s stomach. The alpha teases him, sucking and biting on the most responsive patches of skin, before finally traveling downward. By the time Castiel reaches his omega’s cock, the scent of arousal is thick and heavy in the air, and thanks to the pregnancy pheromones, Cas can’t resist any longer. He takes Dean into his mouth in one fell swoop, inhaling through his nose as the cockhead brushes the back of his throat. Dean’s hips rise automatically as he shouts, but Castiel keeps him pinned down, his alpha instincts wanting to take care of his omega completely. He strokes Dean’s dick in rhythm with his mouth, lips wet and messy and stretched as he slowly makes his omega begin to unravel. 

“F-fuck, Cas, Jesus,” he whimpers. “Wanna…wanna come on your cock, alpha, _please_ …”

Castiel is unable to deny his mate anything right now, which is his only excuse for growling out with lust and slipping two fingers into Dean’s open hole. They had sex just last night, and he’s pleased to find his husband wet and pliant again, begging for Castiel’s cock to fill him up. Castiel props Dean’s hips up with a pillow and bottoms out quickly, knowing neither of them are going to last long, but he’s feeling too raw from their earlier conversation to deny them this pleasure. He pistons into Dean as forcefully as he can while still being aware of his omega’s belly, dick warm and slippery inside the tight channel of Dean’s perfect ass. 

“God…right there!” Dean’s body thrums with lust and energy as Castiel’s cock brushes his prostate, nailing the spot with reckless abandon.

“Come for me, Dean,” he whispers hoarsely, and Dean shakes and moans and then he _does_ , come painting his baby bump. His release is sticky and warm, his hole constricting tightly as Dean orgasms, and Castiel’s knot begins to form. His heart is racing as his mouth seeks out Dean’s neck, sucking a hickey in lieu of a bite—Castiel won’t allow himself to bite Dean while he’s pregnant, much to his mate’s disappointment—and continues to thrust _in and out, in and out._ When the knot finally catches and he feels an orgasm tear through him, his body shaking from the intensity of it, he closes his eyes and comes. 

All he wants to do is slump into bed and hold his mate, but he has to maneuver Dean’s leg over to one side—which requires a good amount of fumbling, thanks to Dean’s belly and Cas’ knot. It’s getting to the point in Dean’s pregnancy where penetration may not be achievable for too much longer, but Castiel has perfectly good hands and a rather skilled mouth. He has no intention of denying Dean pleasure when he wants it. 

With clear effort and a lot of shuffling, he lowers himself to the bed. He tucks Dean’s back against his chest, and then they’re both breathing heavily, tied together for a while. Castiel kisses his mate’s scent gland, tracing the mark his teeth left. Dean loves kissing the bite he left on Castiel’s shoulder, too, and Cas feels a burst of pride at the thought of his _own_ mark declaring to the world that he’s claimed by someone he loves. 

Dean grabs his hand, threading their fingers together and placing their joint hands on his belly, before he mumbles out, “It’s all gonna be okay, Cas. I promise. We’re in this together, alright?”

Castiel knows there are a lot of things he could say, a lot of arguments he could make about _why_ it’s totally reasonable for him to be worried. But in the end, he trusts Dean implicitly, trusts their relationship to get him through even the most difficult of days. 

“Alright,” he whispers in agreement, and once his knot goes down they jump in the shower, preparing for Sam’s arrival and the long, busy day ahead. 

***

Dean slips on his maternity jeans, deciding that he’ll take it to his grave how much he loves the stretch top built in. None of his old t-shirts fit and he doesn’t want to stretch them out, so he grabs one of the many plain tees Castiel had bought for him. His back twinges a bit as he pulls everything on, and he thinks his husband may have had a point about him doing too much. He just feels a constant itch under his skin with the need to keep busy.

“Ready?” Castiel asks, as he rubs a towel over his damp hair. Dean licks his lips and tells his damn pregnancy hormones to chill. Still, just the sight of Cas damp in his jeans and t-shirt makes his pants tight. “Don’t look at me like that. Your brother should be here any minute.” Castiel smiles at him, and Dean thinks his scent obviously gave him away.

“His flight doesn’t get in for another two hours,” Dean corrects, searching the living room for his keys. A while ago Castiel had placed a bowl by the door for them to put their keys in, but Dean can never remember to leave them there.

“He got in thirty minutes ago. His flight got bumped up,” Castiel answers, watching him rummage around.

“What? Why didn’t you tell me? He’s gonna be sitting there waiting.” Dean finally spots the keys wedged in the sofa cushions. He’d taken the sofa from the library and moved it into their cabin a few years ago, and though it was an exhausting process, it had been well worth it. They had made many happy memories on that couch together, and had even conceived their son on it—who’s currently playing kickball with his bladder.

“Don’t worry, Alfie picked him up. They should be back any minute now.” His alpha comes over and snatches the keys from his hands.

“I could have gone to pick him up,” Dean protests, as Castel drops the keys in the key bowl.

“Dean, I love the Impala…but we’ve been over this. It isn’t safe for you to drive while you’re this far along. It's only a little while longer,” Castiel says, trying to comfort him while Dean tries not to wanna punch his husband in his very sensible face.

“This blows,” he grumbles, putting his hands on his belly and feeling the kick there. “Sucks being cooped up, doesn’t it?” he mutters to his stomach, and gets an answering wiggle. He can’t fight the small smile that brings him—his son is strong.

“Soon enough he’ll be out in the world, Dean.” Castiel kisses him on the neck over his scent gland, subtly breathing him in. Being pregnant has kept him from doing so many things he loves—from whiskey and bacon and driving—but the idea of little Jimmy coming out into the world still seems terrifying. He can’t really admit that to Castiel, though, since the alpha is nervous enough for the both of them. 

He puts on his patented Winchester megawatt smile and pats Cas on the shoulder. 

“Come on, let's go,” he sighs, taking Castiel’s hand in his own as a peace offering. If the touch just so happens to soothe his pregnancy hormones, then no one needs to know.

The walk to the house isn’t long, especially since Dean cleared a nice walking path through the back garden up to the main house. He likes that no one can see the cabin from the house, giving them more privacy. Still, he loves that the rest of his family and his work is only a few minutes’ walk away.

“Dean!” 

His head turns and he sees Sam jogging over to him, a wide smile spreading across his face.

“Heya, Sammy!” he calls back, leaving Castiel’s side to greet his brother.

Sam’s ever growing limbs wrap him up in a bear hug. Dean lets out a _omph_ at the impact but can’t help smiling. Sam quickly pulls back and crouches down to put his hands on Dean’s belly, eliciting an eye roll from Dean. He hasn’t had to deal with too many people trying to touch his belly…having an overprotective alpha has some perks. Still, apparently omega brothers get a pass because Cas is just smiling at the two of them.

“How's my nephew doing?” Sam coos at his belly. “Keeping your dads busy already, I bet?”

“Seriously, dude?” Dean puts his hands on his hips, scowling down at the ever growing mop of hair.

“Making him cranky, huh?” Sam smiles, standing up finally. “How are you feeling?”

“I have a beach ball in my stomach that likes to kick my bladder, my feet are too swollen for my shoes, and I can’t have any coffee…but other than that, peachy,” Dean grumbles.

Castiel comes up and puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder, soothing him and giving Sam a welcoming hug. “Welcome home, Sam. Father and baby are both doing well, I assure you. Maybe we can go in the house and see about getting a cup of decaf?”

“Yuck,” Dean protests, and feels a commiseratory kick again from baby Winchester. “Jeez, kicking my kidney, kid,” he mutters, and laughs a little. Every wiggle and kick just reaffirm that his little man is doing okay.

“Can I feel?” Sam grins, and Dean figures at least he asked this time. He reaches out and grabs Sam’s hand, placing it on the right spot. “Hi, Jimmy,” Sam says softly, and gets a kick for his greeting. “He kicked me!”

“Yeah, and I’ll kick you if we don’t get a move on. My feet are killing me,” he whines, but there’s a smile on his face.

They all head into the house then and Sam greets everyone with hugs and pats on the back. He still can’t help but swell with pride at the sight of his little brother. At six feet four inches, Dean thinks he might be the tallest omega he ever met—including himself. In true Sam fashion, he hasn’t let anything hold him back, and has been attending Stanford on the only full-ride omega scholarship offered. Dean had heart palpitations when Sam first went off across the country for school—what was so cool about California, anyway? And if he’d stayed the first week at a local motel and semi-stalked his brother, only Castiel had to know…being his accomplice and all. He should have known, though, his brother could handle himself. Plus it's not like Dean could have stopped him. For Sam’s eighteenth birthday, he had handed over his contract papers with Sam’s own name on them, while the two Winchesters had stubbornly ignored the tears in their eyes.

“Want to sit down for a bit?” Castiel whispers in his ear, and while Dean wants to say he’s fine, his body begs to differ. He nods, and Castiel gives his shoulder a squeeze. “Sam, we’re heading to the living room. Why don’t we all go sit in there and you can tell us all about your semester?”

Dean feels his shoulders relax, knowing he won’t miss out on getting caught up with Sam. Often it's annoying how well Cas can read him, but times like this it’s a major plus. He flops down on the couch and Castiel lifts his legs to sit down, repositioning his feet in his lap and pulling off Dean’s shoes. Dean lets out a happy moan as Castiel begins to rub his feet and he all but melts into the cushions.

He thinks about what an amazing, caring alpha he has. When Castiel suggested being the stay-at-home parent, Dean hadn’t hesitated for a moment to agree. Cas had been more than surprised, and Dean could tell he didn’t expect Dean to agree so fast. He knew his alpha though—he was the most caring and nurturing man at heart, and would take amazing care of their baby. Plus, a stay-at-home alpha was basically unheard of. If they both secretly loved telling gender stereotypes to go fuck themselves, then that was just a happy side effect.

Sam tells them all about the classes he’s taking, and which professors he likes this semester. Dean listens as Sam gives an obviously edited tale of going out for drinks with friends on his twenty-first birthday, to which Charlie tells him will be nothing compared to the party tonight. Dean smiles, knowing all the food Ellen has prepared with all of Sam’s favorites, and the alcohol Dean bought—from El Sol, to Margiekugel, to Johnny Walker. If Dean can’t get drunk, then he can live vicariously through his brother. As they continue talking, Dean notices the name Jess keeps coming up in all his stories as well.

“So, who’s this Jess girl?” Dean asks, sitting up a little on the couch.

Sam blushes a telling red before letting his hair fall in his face. “Oh, uh…just a friend. You’d really like her, Dean.”

“Just a friend, huh? Sounds like something you should remedy.” Dean smirks at Sam, enjoying the nervous twist to his lips.

“Yes, don’t let a good one get away, Sam.” Castiel winks knowingly at Dean, and now it’s his turn to flush.

Eventually everyone splits up to their tasks for the day. Castiel goes to assist Ellen and Missouri with party planning, while Alfie takes Joshua to a follow up appointment for his hip. Sam heads over to get the information he needs for his summer internship working on Jody Mills’s presidential campaign. After Jody had won a second term as governor she had set her sights higher, with omega reformation one of the biggest ticket items on her campaign. 

Dean takes the short walk (not waddle, Dean Winchester does not waddle), to his office that he shares with Castiel. Once Castiel had mostly retired and Dean had finished his degree, Castiel had relinquished his office to Dean to do his nonprofit work. Dean insisted, however, that they move his old desk into the large space so they could share it.

Dean paces off and on while he talks about budget needs for the new omega clinic, and about the licensing and building permits they’re going to need. It isn’t his favorite part of his job, dealing with all the bureaucratic red tape, but it’s necessary. Then, Anna calls from Winchester House to report that they need more bedding and toiletries than they expected. Dean figures he can do a run tomorrow and grab some supplies.

Hours pass before there’s a knock at the door, and Castiel’s dark shock of hair pops inside. “Hey there, handsome. It's almost time for the birthday dinner.”

“Already? Alright, I’m coming.” Dean wedges himself out his office chair, using the desk to help heave himself up. “Man, I gotta pee,” he groans, heading around the desk. “So sexy, I know,” he adds, sighing at his self-deprecating comment.

“Always sexy to me, my omega,” Castiel replies smoothly, leaning down to plant a soft, intimate kiss just behind his ear…making him shudder.

“Promise?” he asks, suddenly desperate to hear the answer. He can’t help fearing what his post-baby body will look like and if Castiel will still want him. Castiel pulls back to look into Dean’s face, hand cupping his stubbled chin.

“You are now, and will always be, the sexiest, most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” Castiel tells him, and Dean can hear the earnestness in his words. He blushes a little before planting a chaste kiss on his alpha’s lips.

“Come on, I don’t wanna be late.” Dean slides his hand into his mate’s as they head to the dining room.

Ellen out did herself: there’s Sam’s favorite salad, spinach lasagna, and even mini-banana and peanut butter sandwiches for dessert. Dean pops the bottle on the first beer of the night, handing it to Sam.

“Cheers, little brother.” Dean clinks his water glass and tries not to scowl as Sam takes a sip of his now-legal beer.

“That’s good! Way better than the stuff they had at the bar back at school.” Sam smiles, taking another sip.

“You're being smart, right Sammy? Watching your drink and not going out alone?” Dean can feel the anxiety course through him at the thought of his omega little brother alone at a bar.

“Relax Dean, I’m careful. I always go out with my friends. You know I’m not some naive kid, right?” Sam scoffs, taking another sip. Dean looks at his brother, really looks at him, and realizes maybe for the first time that Sam is grown up now. His eyes are wiser than before, and he holds himself with more of an inner confidence than an outright defiance at the world. He’s fighting to change the world on a big picture scale for omegas. Dean is so incredibly proud, and yet, so incredibly sad all at once. His little brother—who always looked up to him, followed him, trusted him, and needed him—is going out in the world without him.

He subconsciously rubs at his belly. _I’m never letting you out_ , he thinks. He can tell Sam is watching him warily, and he has no idea what his face looks like right now, but he curses his pregnancy hormones yet again. 

“I know you're not a kid, Sam. I’m really fucking proud of you.” He gives Sam’s shoulder a squeeze and excuses himself before he actually starts to lose it.

He seats himself by his mate and feels Castiel’s hand rest on his knee. He’s sure Cas can sense his mood, and tries to rally so he won’t be a downer. For the life of him, he can’t take his hand off his belly all through dinner. He needs the reassurance that Jimmy is there and well and needs Dean. He watches as his family laughs and drinks, everyone continuing to toast Sam and tell their favorite Sam stories. Dean continues with his water, feeling more and more disgruntled that he can’t partake with his brother. He’d always envisioned the two of them going out and tying one on together for his brother's twenty-first birthday.

Seeing Sam so happy and at home, though, brings a smile to his face. The party moves to the kitchen after Ellen, Missouri, and Joshua say goodnight. Jo begins pouring shots, and Charlie and Kevin argue over what drinking game to play while Alfie sits a bit wobbly in his chair. Dean leans on the counter, watching them all as Castiel’s hand moves around his waist.

“How are you?” his alpha whispers in his ear.

“He’s all grown up.” Dean gestures toward his brother, whose eyes are more slanted now and shoulders are swaying a bit.

“He’s getting there,” Castiel says with a chuckle. “You did a great job with him, Dean. You should be very proud of the man he became.”

Dean nods, because he is proud—stupidly proud. “He’s gonna change the world, I think.”

“I think so, too. Just like his big brother.” Castiel wraps his hands all the way around his stomach now.

“I’m not changing the world, Cas,” he scoffs.

“Of course you are. All the work you’ve done for the omega clinic, the safe house, and the legal aid. You are changing the world, one person's life at a time.” Dean never really thought of it that way before. Castiel kisses his neck. “You’re my hero, Dean Winchester.”

Dean chuckles, but the words feel good…like a balm to his soul. “You’re real sap, aren’t you, alpha?” 

“The sappiest, it's true.” Castiel’s voice is warm and honey thick.

“Oh, I almost forgot the surprise!” Dean twists out of Castiel’s grip. “Tell everyone to go outside in five—no, ten minutes.” He hurries out the back door and toward the garage. He had hidden the box in a far back corner and pulls it out now, carrying it toward the back lawn behind the pool. He digs around in the box and starts pulling everything out and setting it up. Crouching in the grass starts to kill his legs, so he kneels instead. He’s just getting the last one set up when he sees Castiel approaching.

“Dean, do you need any help…?” The alpha freezes, eyes narrowing. “Dean Winchester, please tell me you are not trying to set off fireworks while pregnant!” Castiel all but screeches at him.

Dean cringes a little, looking down at his loot and thinking that—okay, maybe this wasn’t the _safest_ idea, but this isn’t exactly his first time either. “I know what I’m doing, Cas, I promise,” he tried to reassure the alpha.

“Yard work is one thing, or office work. Carrying in a bag of groceries is okay…but setting off explosive devices is _not_ okay.” Castiel looks absolutely stricken, and is clearly five seconds away from pushing Dean out of the way and throwing himself on top of the fireworks to save him.

“I just wanted to give Sammy something he loves, and he _loves_ fireworks, Cas. It's kinda our thing,” he pleads.

Castiel mutters to himself, walking in a circle, and Dean looks up to see everyone coming out onto the back patio—laughing and joking. He really doesn’t want to stress out Castiel though, and even he can confess this isn’t the safest activity to be participating in.

“Kevin, come over here!” Dean calls out, and sees the form of Kevin jogging over to him.

“Hey, what's up? Oh, cool…is that a roman candle?” Kevin’s grin widens.

“You drink anything tonight?” Dean asks, with Castiel’s hovering presence looming over him.

“No, I'm still on those pills that don’t mesh so well with the alcohol.” Kevin shrugs like it's no big thing.

“You think you can handle setting these off without setting yourself on fire?” He sees Kevin’s eyes light up at the prospect, and Castiel’s shoulders relax.

“Hell yeah. I used to set them off at family parties all the time. I got this.” Kevin takes the lighter from him, and Castiel offers Dean a hand up as they head back to the waiting group.

“Thank you,” Castiel whispers to him.

“If you try and quote me on this I’ll deny it, but you were probably right… That wouldn’t be very safe for Jimmy.” He rubs at his belly, and his alpha—being the smart husband he is—thankfully doesn’t rub that fact in his face. Dean stands with his family around him, and Sam slings an arm over his shoulder with a happy, goofy grin on his face. 

“What's goin’ on, Dee?” Sam asks, using his old nickname from when Sam was small.

“Got a surprise for you, Sammy, just look.” He points toward the dark yard when the first firework soars, screaming into the air and explodes in bright blue light across the dark sky.

“Holy shit!” Sam gapes beside him, and all his friends gasp as the lights flicker and fall from the sky. More fireworks soar and whizz through the air, popping and exploding and showering them in colorful light. Dean reaches in his pocket and pulls out a few sparklers, handing them to Sam and lighting them for him. 

“No way! Thanks, Dean!” With a childlike glee, Sam takes two lit ones and begins jumping up and down and waving them in the grass, his laughter echoing through the night. Charlie and Jo and Alfie grab theirs as well, joining him, and Dean stays back to lean against Castiel…watching their family laugh and run around with sparklers like overgrown kids.

Dean leans into Cas, pulling at his alpha’s hand to lay over his belly, sharing the firm kick his son is delivering. Castiel lets out a happy rumble in his chest, his scent thick with contented mate. 

“You make me so happy, Cas. I hope you know that.”

Castiel nuzzles at his neck, breathing him in. “I look forward to continuing to make you happy for a very long time to come.” 

As Dean looks into Castiel’s face, lit up from the sparkling lights, he thinks he’s the luckiest man on the planet. Raising a baby may turn out to be the hardest thing they ever do together, but he’s sure now more than ever that they’re up for the challenge. The world is changing, their lives are changing, but so long as Dean has his family and his alpha, he knows that everything is going to work out okay.

A moment later, they both laugh as Jimmy gives an especially hard kick against Castiel’s hand.

“He’s not gonna be easy, is he?” Dean asks.

“Not in the slightest…but I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Castiel replies, leaning over to pull Dean into a soft, gentle kiss—one out of the thousands, maybe millions, Dean hopes they share. After all, they’ve got nothing but time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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